Two of Hearts
by CeruleanKangaroo
Summary: MxM: Nathaniel Orington, heir to his father's wealth & glory under the Queen of Hearts, comes to question his place in Wonderland after meeting the March Hare, a servant up for sale. The teen is transformed into the face of the revolution: The Mad Hatter
1. Introductions

**Chapter One: Introductions**

Nathaniel didn't know anything about anything until that moment. At least, it would seem that way when he gazed back upon it in the years to come. In the moment, however, at the tender age of sixteen, it felt only like abject horror.

The gruesome nature of the barbed wire holding pens didn't match the lovely blue of the sky, with its white puffy clouds and free-flying birds. The ragged, tired-looking mothers clutching to their young with shaking arms didn't match the spread of lush green grass and the dotting of multicolored wildflowers in the forest clearing.

For sixteen years of his life, Nathaniel Jouile-Robert Orington had never thought to consider the origin of the animal servants that had surrounded him since birth. He had always realized they were servants, but never that people considered them subservient. He had always thought that it was their job to help around the house, like it was his father's job to sell things and the Queen's job to yell. But now, surrounded by the brutal truth of it all, watching them being bred and torn from their mothers only to be taught lessons with fierce beatings, he felt a strange sickness growing in his stomach. He had never thought them to be so brutally mistreated. He cast his hazel eyes back toward Elk, their footman, standing pristine and proud at the door to the large, garish carriage, waiting to let them back in. His gold-trimmed teal vest marked him as one of the Orington's servants, their family crest emblazoned on the lapel. If anyone had reason to doubt his belonging, they could easily shave his left ankle and find the crest tattooed there as well, stabbed under his skin as a permanent reminder of who owned him. Nathaniel thought it oddly like branding cattle. But the S_erviteurs du Maison_ (called "Housepets" in common parlance) were anything but cattle. It wasn't until that moment that Nathaniel gave the matter any thought, but he suddenly realized how human Elk was, how a hard, shining intelligence appeared in his wide golden eyes, how he stood on hind legs and wore clothing and spoke. He had never once thought to compare this servant with his non-serving cousins who lived in the woods, munching grass and berries and doing other elk things all day. It wasn't until that moment that Nathaniel wondered who had it better: Elk or his non-serving cousins.

_Being back in a place like this must weigh on him,_ thought Nathaniel. And upon looking for a sign of this pain, he found it immediately in the creature's wide, knowing eyes. The elk _Serviteur_ waited for his master to ascend the steps to the large main cottage before gazing over the scene before him. Nathaniel glanced back at him, watching the dejection, then the anger, settle upon his widely expressive face. He was sweeping his eyes through the pens, and it was at that moment that Nathaniel remembered his father saying that the Orington family had used the same breeder for decades. That meant that Elk had likely grown for the first seven years of his life in this horrible place, to his elk adolescence, and that he likely had family remaining somewhere in those barbed wire pens.

Nathaniel's attention was snapped back to his own surroundings as the door of the cottage slammed shut behind him, blocking his view of the horror outside.

"Ah, Mr. Orington," came a sharp voice from the stairway. Nathaniel felt his nose twitch in a slight disgusted grimace as he caught sight of the woman coming toward them. She was old, her solid gray hair poised on her head in a tightly-wound bun, a long Victorian dress covering her body from neck to heel in black fabric. Everything about her was severe and controlling, from the way she walked toward them to the cruel, heartless expression in her eyes.

When she reached the bottom of the stairs, Mr. Orington gave a slight bow and she gave a slight curtsey, both moving minutely to show a mutual respect. Nathaniel suspected this respect stemmed from the fact that they were both extremely successful entrepreneurs who had built their businesses from scratch as young adults, his father in the import/export business, and this cruel woman in the servant breeding business. At any rate, their level of success was rare in Wonderland.

"It's been too long, Matilda," said Nathaniel's father, drawing her hand to his lips for a soft kiss. "How has your business been? It looks to have grown in strength and numbers as of late."

They chatted for a few moments about business tactics and recent ventures, both of them completely ignoring Nathaniel. He wanted to include himself in the conversation, to ask Matilda a sarcastic question about her (lack of) ethical practices, for he had already formed his opinion of her and her business in the mere moments he had been observing them, but he bit his tongue. His father had expressly warned him about embarrassing him in front of the strict woman and had promised him the punishment would be severe, should he disobey.

"_You_ must be Nathaniel," drawled the woman as she offered her hand for him to shake. Even though it was childish, he didn't want to touch her wrinkled skin, didn't want her long, apple red nails to scratch his palm. But once again, his father's threat lingered in his ears, and he gave her hand a firm but quick shake, finding himself hoping that none of her evil rubbed off on him. He bowed, as Wonderland social norms said he should, and she nodded appreciatively. "I understand you're in the market for one of my _Serviteurs_. There are many fine creatures up for sale who have just come of age."

"What month are they?" asked Nathaniel, as his father had prompted him to do. It would make him sound educated on the matter, he had said.

And apparently he was correct, because Matilda's eyes lit up. They were still cruel, just slightly more zealous than before.

"They are of March," she said emphatically, grabbing Nathaniel by the arm and steering him out the large oak door. "Come, come. They are on display for your choosing."

Instead of guiding him toward the barbed wire pens to the left of the large cottage, the severe old woman guided him around to the right, where a large set of tiny houses was arranged on a strictly-set grid. Each one was whimsical, in true Wonderland style, with bright colors and wild patterns, but each was no bigger than the typical dog house. They were not even large enough for the unfortunate Housepets to stretch out in, neither standing nor lying.

"Can they only _sit_ in those houses?" Nathaniel asked before he considered the implications of the question. He hadn't even bothered hiding the disgust in his voice.

The eyes of the two adults were pinned on him now, his father giving a slight glare at how rude the question had been, Matilda's eyes wide in surprise. Nathaniel ducked his head down, pretending to examine his gloves in a bored fashion.

"I'm simply worried about the health of their spines and joints," he said flatly, as if he wasn't discussing the welfare of living creatures with their evil captor. "If they can only sit hunched over, they may suffer damage that would make them worthless immediately."

The adults seemed to take this better. Mr. Orington straightened up, looking to Matilda for the answer to what was now considered a serious and valid question. Nathaniel could tell she still didn't enjoy being doubted, but she cleared her throat and replied.

"I assure you, they are given up to six standing hours a day in the fresh air, and perhaps more if there are many visiting buyers. Their skeletal systems are in perfect health. My husband is a trained doctor and personally examines them before they are sold and marked with a family crest."

Nathaniel had saved himself by the skin of his teeth. Matilda signaled to a Housepet standing at the side of the house, an aging dog who instantly retrieved a fancy horn from the case beside him and blew it with all his might. A loud, low tone filled the air with nearly tangible vibrations and not even a second had gone by when the little doors to the houses opened simultaneously.

Creatures of all types stepped into the sunny field, their faces hard and expressionless as they displayed impeccable posture. At least a hundred of them stood there in front of their bright whimsical dwellings. For a moment, a dead silence spread over the valley. It was so quiet that Nathaniel could hear his heart beating in his chest. And then, a noise shattered the silence.

It was a sneeze, no doubt brought on by emerging from the blackness of the windowless houses into the bright sunlight of the clearing. Matilda was furious. Her glare was a force to be reckoned with, and before anyone had realized it, she was standing next to a trembling hare in the back row, grabbing him by the ears and growling nasty and insulting words at him.

"This is your _last _chance to be sold today. Do you understand?" And from nowhere, she produced a thin and supple rod of wood and proceeded to smack him about with it sharply. "And if it's not today, then you shall be stew for supper tonight, and I won't think twice about it. If you can't be worth money, you can at least be worth nutrition. Stand up straight. Stop sneezing. Stop shaking. Stare straight ahead and don't move one useless muscle in your useless body, or it will be your _end_."

Nathaniel wasn't sure if she had intended her words to be heard, for he could tell they were quietly hissed with malice, but the wind was blowing in his direction and they carried directly to his ear. He looked to his father, hoping to see a similar look of shock and worry on his face, but the man just shook his head at his son, chuckling softly.

"Some just aren't meant to make it as a _Serviteur_, I suppose. Though, breeders as experienced as Matilda usually filter them out in the first weeks of life instead of waiting. It is considered by some to be inhumane, letting them live this long."

Nathaniel huffed in disgust, turning away from his father to watch Matilda marching back toward him, the punishing rod in her hand as a warning to the other animals.

"Now," she said, straightening to a startlingly strict posture. "Nathaniel. These animals are arranged in a very specific way. Before we put them up for sale, they undergo a battery of aptitude tests and they are arranged here for you by score. We've found that these scores are excellent indicators of their future success in the homes they are to serve, especially in the case of a young man's first manservant. Those here in the front row have scored the very best on their tests."

She gestured, then, to a solidly-built white and gray bulldog standing so still he looked to be made of marble.

"This is our finest _Serviteur_. He scored perfectly on every task with which we presented him. He is the pinnacle of good breeding and solidifying, perfect training."

The bulldog bowed low then, so low his nose nearly touched Nathaniel's shoes.

"Here, Nathaniel," said his father in a jovial tone, his large hand clapping his son on the back. "This is the finest of them all. We'll take him!"

But Nathaniel held up his white-gloved hand, then touched his fingers delicately to his lips.

"No," he said, looking out at the rows of houses. "I have not seen the rest. And I am not even slightly interested in having a _bulldog_ as a manservant my whole life long."

He glanced apologetically at the bulldog, but his stone cold face did not give any emotion at this slight. Nathaniel supposed that was often considered a benefit of having a well-trained Housepet, but he powerfully disliked it. He knew he was acting spoiled, in the way it had all come out. But, then again, he was sure Matilda was used to that sort of thing: rich, snotty kids coming to buy their new property, property she believed she had made and therefore had a right to sell. It all made him a little ill.

"Very well," she said dismissively. "Take a look at the selection, make your choice, and have Retriever show you in when you've decided."

She pointed to the aging dog who had blown the horn and then turned on her heel and began to make her way back to her large cottage. Mr. Orington was surveying the field filled with more than a hundred tiny houses, shading his eyes against the sun.

"Well," he said, stepping down to the Housepet ranking second overall. It was a small elephant, giving the same stone-cold, obeying gaze. "How about this one, Son? You do want one of high quality and aptitude scores. Otherwise, problem behavior tends to crop up in the course of..."

But Nathaniel was already halfway to the back row by the time his father realized where he had gone. The white hare, the one who had been beaten by the evil black-clad breeder just minutes before, mistook his glare of anger at the situation for a glare of anger directed at him, and he scurried around the corner of his dingy brown house, only stopped from fleeing altogether by a thick black shackle and chain around his ankle.

"Hey, there," Nathaniel said softly, crouching down at the front of the house. "Come out here, Hare. I'm not about to hurt you..."

Hare hesitated, tugging hard on his leg and rattling the chain that prevented his escape. But when he realized it was of no use, he swallowed hard and tried his best to calm his trembling muscles. If he didn't obey his commands, he knew what would happen. The snotty, rich boy would complain to the Mistress, and he would be stew for sure. Hare wrapped his arms around himself, sitting against the little brown-painted side of his house, and took a few steadying breaths. Then, gathering all the courage he had, he crawled forward and stood.

The boy in front of him was taller than he by half a foot at the least, with waves of light brown hair crowning his head. He was dressed in a wealthy manner, though his shirt was coming untucked and his tie was in a state of chaos. Hare tilted his head slightly in confusion, looking up into the boy's eyes, which were nothing like the those of the others who had often come to jeer at him and abuse him for his poor placement in the aptitude tests. His eyes were a soft hazel, a circle of spring moss around a soft brown bark shining with flecks of gold in the morning sun, and they completely lacked the hardness and hate that was so prominent in the others.

Nathaniel too was surprised. The hare in front of him wasn't made of stone like the others. He had what some would call audacity, looking the human in the eye, presenting himself with his trousers grass-stained and his vest crooked on his shoulders. For Nathaniel, it was a sign of unbreakable character and heart, something the other _Serviteurs_ lacked immensely. And maybe it was because his mother had told him to choose someone he felt he could make a lifelong bond with, and maybe it was because there was a death threat hovering over the hare's head, and maybe it was because the poor thing's muscles still trembled and his eyes looked desperate and sad, but whatever the reason, Nathaniel offered a hand to Hare and gave him a soft smile.

It was that moment that Mr. Orington reached the pair of them.

"I intend to buy him," he said quietly to his father. He was hoping the hare would shriek in joy, would show his happiness, his relief at being able to get out of the dangerous situation he was in, but instead he just stared. He stood still as a statue, like the other Housepets, except for the fact that he was staring at Nathaniel's hand with the most confused and surprised look on his face. Nathaniel wiggled his fingers about in front of the hare's eyes, which finally brought him to the present again.

"Here," he said reassuringly, once again offering his gloved hand to the trembling hare. "Take it."

But just as the shaking hare made to take the human's hand, Mr. Orington stepped in, grabbed his son by the shoulder, and guided him firmly away from the animal.

"Nathaniel," he said in a gruff tone. His eyebrows were pinching together in the middle in a look of frustration and disgust. "I thought I had explained this process to you. We greet Mistress Matilda. We choose from the three or four finest Housepets she has available: the true top-bracket, costliest Pets, because they are the _best_. Not bottom-tier garbage. Do you understand?"

Nathaniel pursed his lips in frustration of his own, then cleared his throat, took a step back to break his father's grip on his shoulder, and spat, "You and I have different definitions of 'best.' He is not an unfeeling stone. He is a creature with heart and personality, and I want _him_ as my manservant. Perhaps a top-tier Housepet would be best for someone callous who cares only that he is obeyed and everything is done right, but perhaps there are also _different_ opinions."

With that, Nathaniel turned on his heel and marched angrily toward the house, extracting a satchel of coins his mother had given him from the pocket of his jacket as he walked.

"Prepare the Hare at the very bottom for transport," he barked at the old golden retriever as he passed by.

His father was following him at a distance, shaking his head in surrender. Sometimes, it was easier to give in to his stubborn son's demands than argue the issue with him. And at any rate, though he didn't understand it, his son had connected deeply to the last-place hare. Deeply enough, at least, to put up a fight for him. When it came down to it, Nathaniel needed a servant to aid him in his transition to adulthood. Whether that servant was a finely-tuned, deeply successful Housepet or a bumbling bottom-tier idiot made not much difference. Whether the hare would become a favorite or quickly discarded, he was only the first among many servants to come in his long and successful future. And after all, buying bottom-tier saved him a substantial amount of money.

Nathaniel found Matilda in her large kitchen, overseeing the preparation of what seemed to be a lovely meal. The room was alive with the buzz of many occupied Housepets, all of them working together to chop carrots and potatoes, prepare a thick brown broth, and sharpen the knives.

"Ah," she said, beaming with an unconvincing, manic happiness. "Have you decided, young Orington? I had you sighted for that second-place elephant the moment you walked in."

"No," he said firmly. His father had joined him in the kitchen by that time, watching the exchange play out. But at this point, he set his hand softly on his son's shoulder and bowed gently to Matilda once more.

"It seems Nathaniel here has chosen to take the problematic hare off your hands," he said with a chuckle.

Instantly, Nathaniel could see that his father knew something he didn't. It was a war of glances and expression between the wealthy import-export businessman and the powerful breeder, and it was then that Nathaniel fit the pieces of the puzzle together: the busy Pets, the carrots, the pot of broth, the scowling woman who looked very much like she had just had her dinner snatched out of her hands. She had been preparing to make stew for dinner; stew with meat from a hare she found very aggravating.

But then Mr. Orington spoke a language she understood perfectly.

"I will pay you twice what he is worth," he said sternly, withdrawing his own satchel of coins as well. "Enough to pay for this meal five times over."

Nathaniel spilled the contents of his satchel onto the table, a few of the thin coins spinning for a moment before falling still. To the sizable pile, Mr. Orington added three gold coins as thick as his thumb, releasing his notion that he was going to get out of the encounter cheaply.

"Very well," she said, a chill tone in her voice. Nathaniel shuddered, feeling very much that she had been looking forward to killing the poor creature and was upset about being robbed of the pleasure. She approached the table and counted the gold, checking its validity with her expert, hawk-like eyes. When she had verified that the count was sufficient, she unhooked a key from the ring in her pocket and handed it over to Nathaniel. "My husband will be examining him as we speak. You may unlock him when you feel ready to take him. Bring him back in two weeks, when you are certain that you will keep him, and we will imprint your family crest in his skin without additional charge."

Nathaniel bowed not out of respect, but because he felt glad to be done with her. She simply looked at him with her cold, gray eyes and said nothing.

The doctor had just finished his examination when the Oringtons returned to Hare's tiny brown dwelling. He assured them that the hare was in perfect health "except for a few surface welts which, as you know, will decrease in size by the morning." And after giving his report of superb health, the man exclaimed that he was likely late for dinner and darted off with a look of frantic anxiety in his eyes.

_No wonder_, mused Nathaniel. _Anyone would, being married to that woman._

"I'll prepare the carriage and have Elk bring it around for you," said Mr. Orington. This was a large moment in the development of a relationship between master and _Serviteur_, and he did not want to intrude or influence it. While his son was young and still in need of guidance, Mr. Orington felt it was not his place to guide this particular interaction. After all, his son was his own person.

When his father had stepped outside a safe hearing distance, Nathaniel turned to the shackled Housepet beside him, taking time to admire the creature. His fur appeared silky and healthy, and his eyes certainly possessed the same shining intelligence Nathaniel had seen in Elk's.

"My name is Nathaniel Orington," he said to the still-trembling hare. He offered his gloved hand once more, tilting his head in the same quizzical way the animal had earlier. And though he had seen the intelligence in the creature's eyes, he was still surprised at how smooth and intentional the movement was when the creature placed his paw in Nathaniel's hand for a shake.

"Master Orington," he mumbled uncertainly, staring at his white paw displayed against the white glove. "My name is H-Hare."

"Well, Hare, let me unlock you. Here..."

Nathaniel knelt down in the grass, fitting the ancient-looking skeleton key into the shackles around Hare's ankles, detaching the chain and then freeing him completely. The creature tilted his head once more, his eyes fixed on Nathaniel as he straightened up. He gazed around at the countryside, and his human owner could see in his eyes that he was contemplating how far he could make it if he bolted for the horizon, and if he'd make it before he got caught.

"You've no need to run, Hare," said Nathaniel carefully. "Look, my father gave me this."

From his coat he produced a strong but supple punishment rod, much like the one Matilda had used on him only an hour or so ago. The creature flinched, flattening himself against his dwelling in fear.

"No, look!" Nathaniel insisted, and the hare nervously set his eyes on his new master once more. "Look, I've no use for it, do I?"

He tossed it away, hearing it splash in the nearby decorative pond, a fat bullfrog croaking unappreciatively.

"I shall never strike you," Nathaniel promised, looking his Housepet sincerely in the eye. "And now that that's out of the way, let's take a carriage ride, shall we?"

"I've never b-been..." mumbled Hare, his heart still thumping in his chest at the sight of the rod.

"Well, there's a first time for everything, and there's a world out there you've never seen. A carriage ride is a good start."

And just at that moment, the gilded Orington carriage came to a stop beside them, Elk holding the reigns. He hopped down gracefully, opened the door, and allowed Nathaniel inside.

"You'll sit with me," said Elk with a reassuring smile, gesturing to the high seat in the front. He remembered what it was like to be newly purchased, and he felt for the poor trembling creature. "It's more fun than riding inside, anyhow."

When everyone was safely aboard, Elk hitched the reigns and started the carriage's journey west toward the tallest hills of the Queendom, where the Oringtons' mansion was extravagantly perched.


	2. Welcome Home

**Chapter Two: Welcome Home**

After several hours of travel, the gilded carriage was ascending a large hill, following a tree-lined, lantern-lit path that circled around it. The path led up to a ring of tightly-packed gravel, which circled the fountain in front of the Orington residence. The manor itself was a veritable white-painted mansion, with six pillars stretching to the roof four stories above them.

Hare could not believe his eyes. Sure, his new master appeared wealthy, with his satin coat and leather boots and pristine white-gloved hands, but Hare would not have predicted wealth like this. Most families saved for years to afford a _Serviteur_ to assist them with their work, and many times it was a farming family that needed help in their fields. Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine ending up in a place as wealthy and prestigious as the Orington estate before him. It made him a little weak in the knees with worry.

"Welcome home," said Elk, watching Hare's reaction to his first sight of the enormous mansion sitting before them. He climbed down, helping the newly-trembling Hare from his seat before opening the door for the Oringtons. "Bow to your masters," he whispered in reminder, and Hare did so eagerly.

Mr. Orington descended first, giving a nod to acknowledge Hare's bow, the presence of which surprised him greatly. He hadn't expected even that much of the last-place hare, who watched him as he approached the main door. Just before Mr. Orington reached it, a large black dog servant appeared, taking his traveling bag from him and bowing low as he followed him inside.

"His manservant Doberman," said Nathaniel, watching the wonder on Hare's face as he climbed down. Hare, shocked by the sudden appearance of his master, rushed forward without bowing.

"_Bow_ to your master," insisted Elk, perhaps a bit rougher than he should have. Hare flinched hard, closing his eyes and tugging his ears over them, expecting a rough beating for the infraction.

"Oh, give it a rest," snapped Nathaniel, feeling a strange twinge in his chest at the creature's reaction. He gave Elk a glare as he set his hand on Hare's shoulder and gently guided him toward the door. "No need for that nonsense. He's got enough on his mind."

When they stood on the wide marble terrace inside the pillars, Nathaniel stopped and turned to his new manservant.

"Don't let Elk get to you. He's kind, but painfully traditional. Are you doing alright?"

Hare blushed under the direct hazel gaze, fidgeting with his hands and feet and managing to stammer a quiet "yes" in response.

"Good," smiled Nathaniel, turning toward the door. "When we go in, there will be a very nice Housepet to take you to the dormitory and get you dressed in 'proper' clothes." He laughed as he said this, rolling his eyes. "Father's orders. But anyhow, her name is Dormouse, and she's lovely. You'll feel very comfortable in her care."

Hare followed Nathaniel's gaze to the door and it immediately opened, revealing a beautiful tan mouse with wide black eyes, dressed in a gown of soft pink fabric.

"Dormouse," said Nathaniel affectionately, and he reached into his traveling bag, producing a small wooden box. He opened it and handed it to her, smiling at the look of joy on her face.

"Oh, Nathaniel. Hazelnuts! You shouldn't have!"

She pressed her nose into the box, smelling them deeply as her eyes fluttered closed in delight.

"Well, I couldn't help but pick a few for you. We passed by an orchard on the way to get this fellow. Dormouse, this is Hare, and I was hoping you could show him to the dormitories. Hare," he said, turning to his new manservant, "this is Dormouse. She helped to raise me when I was young."

"It's nice to meet you," squeaked Dormouse gently, reaching for Hare's paw and leading him to the huge spiraling staircase. "Come with me. This is a lovely place to live and we'll get you all settled in. You'll start helping your new master in the morning. Tonight is a time for rest and sleep."

Hare had never climbed so many stairs in his life. Technically, he had never climbed any stairs in his life and though he knew the concept, the practice of it rendered him a little nervous. For instance, what if he tripped and fell down all of them? They were arranged in circles. If he fell, he would likely keep falling and falling until he reached the very bottom! Just the thought made him wobbly.

"My, you are quite a bit more fretful than the typical new servant, aren't you?" said Dormouse, and she took his arm to gently steady him.

After four circular flights leading up four stories, they reached a thick mahogany door, which Dormouse tapped at gently before opening. The room they entered was dimly lit with paper lanterns that hung above two long rows of beds. They all looked plush and warm, with small metal plaques bearing the names of the _Serviteurs_ who slept in them. Half were there now, drenched in dim light from the sunset that filtered in through the shaded windows. Upon seeing them in their beds, Dormouse rang a large bell that hung upon the wall. One by one, the sleepy creatures sat up and rubbed at their eyes before standing and choosing clothing from trunks stored under their beds. They dressed in silence together.

"This is the night crew," Dormouse explained as she led him down the small row between the beds. "They work from sun down to sun up, every evening. The day crew should be coming in shortly to rest."

They continued walking past the rows of beds, where a large living area began. There were couches, plush chairs, books, and games, all for the enjoyment of the Housepets.

"Each creature who works a shift also gets an hour or two of break each day, depending on their job. Some creatures enjoy spending it here. Now, you are not on a shift. As a manservant, your job is considered a round-the-clock one. You will sleep here," she said, climbing a small ladder to a lofted area where only four beds were arranged. "This area is for on-call Pets. I sleep here, in the red bed, as I'm in charge of all Housepet organization. Master Orington and his wife have their personal servants as well. I believe you saw Doberman when you arrived. He has the blue bed there. Mistress' maid is Antelope, and she has the pink bed there. I could not guess at your favorite color, but I assigned you the green bed in hopes that you would like it."

Hare was feeling a little teary at the hospitality of the kindhearted dormouse, and he walked over to his bed, pressing the foot of it gently. The green blanket was plush and soft, the mattress cushioning his hand.

"I...this is for..._me_?" he asked. Matilda had beat into his head from day one that he would be sleeping on cold concrete in a moldy basement, so he could scarcely believe that such good fortune as a clean, soft bed really existed.

"Many are shocked, when they arrive here. Master and Mistress treat their servants very well, Hare. You are lucky to be here. Now," Dormouse said, turning to the large chest of drawers before her. "What size clothing do you wear?"

Hare had never been embarrassed about the shabby, threadbare state of his clothing before, but he suddenly flushed a bright pink under his fur and crossed his arms over his chest.

"I've never exactly been told," he mumbled, looking down at his thin body.

"Well, you look to be a small size to me. Let's try this one," she said, handing him a white shirt with no sleeves to it. "It's to go under your vest, you see, so that it doesn't irritate your skin. Here, try this size for a vest, and this size for trousers."

Hare slipped the shirt over his head, trying to look knowledgeable about the crisp, fancy design, but his head was stuck through the hole for his arm, and it wouldn't come free. He was afraid Dormouse would mock him and tease him for his stupidity, but she simply reached forward, slipped his head clear of the shirt, and rearranged it until it fell correctly on his chest.

"There," she said with a smile, helping him into his teal and gold vest. It was much like the one Elk had been wearing and Hare was quite enamored of it, running his fingers along the soft velvet.

The trousers looked simple enough, but he got them on backwards and once again had to be aided by Dormouse, who patiently helped him stand steady as he slipped his feet through the legs. When they were on, she showed him how to fasten them around his waist and pull his tail through the small hole in the back.

"Dashing," she said happily as she chose a few more items from the drawers and arranged them in the small trunk made for Hare's belongings. "Now, here are your working outfits, and here are your nightclothes. No need to be worried here, Hare. Nathaniel is the loveliest human I have ever met."

Hare's ears perked up at this, and he suddenly remembered what Nathaniel had said: Dormouse had raised him. That being so, she must know an awful lot about him.

"Will you tell me about him? The only humans I've known are M-Matilda and her husband," he said, flinching at the simple mention of her name.

"Is she still as miserable as she was when I knew her? Awful woman. Dreadful, really."

"Yes, still dishes out beatings more commonly than meals."

Dormouse shook her head at that sadly.

"Well, Nathaniel is nothing like that. We're not technically allowed to speak about our masters when they are not present, but I can tell you that he's very kindhearted. He has, on occasion, been driven to protests on our behalf. He's half the reason the shift workers get a break during the day! At a very young age, he used arguments about efficiency of work, benefits and costs of schedule change. It has always been remarkable. I think you'll find him to be a very caring and understanding master, though you are, of course, encouraged to form your own opinion. He'll be requesting your aid early in the morning, I would suppose, by pulling a rope in his quarters. This will trigger the bell next to your bed, here, and you will get up to assist him. As tomorrow is your first day, I will show you to his room."

Hare gave a sheepish, nervous smile, wondering if he was dreaming. He had never thought to wish for something as magnificent as this place, such a wonderful guide, and so comfortable a bed. Having tried on his daily clothing, he slipped it off and changed into his nightclothes: a gown of soft blue and warm, fuzzy slippers. He promptly crawled under his sheets and sighed in delight at the plush mattress cradling his body, which had not been properly stretched out for months.

"Thank you so much, Dormouse," he mumbled, half asleep by the time his head hit the pillow.

"Sleep well, Hare," she said with a smile, tugging the small string on the lantern above his bed and drenching him in darkness.

From below, he could hear the rustle of many Pets coming in from their shifts, talking and playing games together as the others shuffled off to work. It was the sound of living in a house. It was the sound of a possible future. It was the sound of _not_ being stew.

**oooooooooo**

Hare was jolted awake by the impossibly loud tinkling of a little bell above his head. He watched it flicking back and forth a moment with sleep-heavy eyes before he fully remembered what it meant. When he did, he darted out of bed so quickly he nearly fell flat on his face.

Antelope, who was sitting up in the bed across from him, gave a soft chuckle as she turned the page of her newspaper.

Hare ducked down below the side of his bed to gather his wits again, but he was already shaking. This was the first day of his new life, the first day of real work. It was the only time he had ever been worried about how abysmal his testing scores were. He had failed everything—from bathing a master to dressing a master to being able to stand still. But then again, he had never had a real motivation to do well. He reasoned through it as he dressed. It was obvious that the fear of punishment only made his performance worse, but he had no fear of that now. His new master had tossed his whipping rod away, into the pond by the little houses. And he didn't seem like the whipping sort anyway. Hare remembered every kind thing that Nathaniel had done for him. There had been dozens, though he had only spent a few hours time with him.

He would be good at his job, he resolved, not for fear of punishment but for Nathaniel, for someone he respected.

With that resolve strong in his heart, he straightened up, smoothed out his vest, and walked carefully to the door. Dormouse was waiting near it with a smile, and she showed him to Nathaniel's quarters on the fourth floor.

**oooooooooo**

Nathaniel groaned loudly at the ringing of the bell. Though the sound was far away, it was loud enough to be rousing, and he buried his head under his pillow, trying to block it all out. Unfortunately, it was quite incessant and he finally tossed his pillow away, yawning widely as he sat up, rubbing his sleep-weary eyes. He startled as he realized he was not alone, adrenaline rushing through him momentarily before he identified the intruder. His father's servant, Doberman, was standing at the bell's pull-string, yanking it over and over again.

"Your father has instructed me to wake the new Hare for you," he said stiffly, only falling still when the bell's tinkling ceased. Hare must have indeed been woken by the racket and had covered the bell to stop its horrible chiming.

Nathaniel could never have summoned his Pet like that, and his nose wrinkled in disgust. His father must have known this. In the carriage on the way home, he had gotten an entire lecture about the proper treatment of a Pet, including a stern way of speaking, commanding instructions, and punishment for even the slightest indiscretion in order to break bad habits. For most of it, he had stared out the window with an icy gaze, arms crossed over his chest to indicate his level of disinterest. That hadn't pleased his father, he supposed, and that was the reason for Doberman's presence.

"Your father," the dog continued, "would also like to remind you of your new duties as a master. Do not disappoint him. Good day, Nathaniel Orington."

The Pet turned on his heel and marched toward the door, opening it just as Hare knocked, and sidestepped him rudely to leave the room quickly. The young hare stood in the doorway awkwardly, unsure what to do with his hands, overwhelmed by the fact that his future stood just across the threshold, a mere step away. Nathaniel leaned back against his headboard, rubbing the back of his head and yawning again.

"Good morning, Hare," he said, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He, too, could feel the awkwardness spreading through the room, paralyzing both of them with uncertainty. Was Hare supposed to get his clothes, or just stand there? He knew what his father would say, that if Hare didn't do what was expected of a manservant automatically, he needed to be corrected with a snap of the whipping rod and made to do as he was told. Nathaniel opened his mouth to command this, but then frowned in confusion, standing as the nervous rabbit stepped in. His father's way was not his way. He had grown in the company of the creatures and knew them to be beautiful and complex, not at all to be mistreated. All thoughts of commanding Hare to do anything fell out of consideration. The door slipped closed behind the hare's little cotton tail and shut with a soft click. Hare's fingers were shaking and he held them behind his back, grasping them tightly to keep them still, instantly worried that the frown on Nathaniel's face was caused by him. He flinched at the thought, his thin body trembling automatically at the memory of the beatings such an expression often brought with it.

"How did you sleep?" mumbled Nathaniel, hoping to comfort Hare by drawing him out of the nervousness they were both wrapped in.

"I s-slept well," Hare managed. "Really well. It was the most restful and comfortable night of sleep I've ever had. Thank you," he said, only then remembering to bow. He bowed so low his ears brushed against the floor. "Did you s-sleep well, Master Orington?" He dared to look up then, just a little, pink eyes gazing nervously upward.

Nathaniel chuckled and shook his head.

"I did, Hare. The first order of business today will be trimming those ears!" he said with a genuine tone of teasing in his voice as he slipped on a pair of white gloves. "We can't have them brushing on the floor each time you bow."

But joking as it was, the prospect obviously horrified Hare, for he frowned and let his ears flop down behind his head.

"Or, you could just not bow anymore. Ever," said Nathaniel seriously, removing a pair of loose, dark red trousers from the drawer of his ornate mahogany chest. He wobbled as he slipped them on. "Let's go with that option. Seriously, Hare, I'm not 'Master,' not 'Sir.' Call me Nathaniel. Or Hatter; that's what Grams calls me, anyhow."

Hare stood there for a moment, dumbfounded as Nathaniel chose a white tee and donned his slippers.

"You...you mean it?" he asked, blinking. For a moment he wondered if he should be offended, if Nathaniel was being kind because he thought Hare couldn't do his job, now that it came down to it. But he had spoken with such a kind voice, such a genuine smile, that Hare could scarcely doubt his sincerity.

Nathaniel approached him then, his hair still messy with sleep, its soft waves gently tousled.

"I mean it," he said as he passed, waving at Hare to follow him downstairs. "Do you need any more blankets up there in the dormitories? Pillows? I bet you didn't get much at Matilda's cottage."

"I couldn't ask for anything more. It's lovely there, Mast...er, Nathaniel. Nathaniel," he said, as if testing the word on his tongue. "You've got a nice name..."

"Got it from my mom." Nathaniel laughed as if it were the funniest thing he'd ever said. Hare certainly thought it was, and he laughed into his soft paws as he covered his smile with them.

Smiling. He was _smiling_! A day ago, he was destined for stew, with no hope of being saved. Today, he was at his master's side, smiling with glee. Hare followed after him, intrigued. He was curious about everything that made up Nathaniel's world, all the simple things like what he ate for breakfast and what he did during the day, who he knew and what he spoke of behind closed doors. At the moment, though, the only closed door Nathaniel was heading for was the kitchen, where he could stop the growling noises of his stomach, and Hare gladly followed him.

Hare didn't realize there was a way to slam a door open, so he was surprised when Nathaniel managed it. The two of them burst into the room, but there was no one on the other side to be surprised. Nathaniel plopped down at the small table in the private family dining room. For being so rich, the small quarters were rather quaint. A plain white tablecloth rested on the smooth, dark wood and a crystal vase of wild daisies was displayed in the middle.

Nathaniel puzzled over the fact that Hare just stood there, staring blankly at him as he settled into his chair. It was only then he remembered that Pets were supposed to stand near their seated masters or sit at a special hidden table of their own. There was a hidden table, in a small room through a sliding panel in the wall, where Pets were to eat. Nathaniel frowned, once again at odds with his father's direct instructions. Mr.. Orington would never approve of Nathaniel so blatantly disregarding the norms of his very culture and home, especially so early into owning his first Pet, and he was sure Hare had been taught "right" and "wrong" at Matilda's awful cottage. But it just didn't seem right, keeping him apart.

"Do you want to sit, Hare?" Nathaniel asked, gently pushing a chair out with his foot. "I usually like cereal with berries in the morning. Is that okay, or would you like something else?"

Hare just stared, dumbfounded, only managing to move toward the chair after a few moments of reverent awe.

"R-real berries?" he mumbled as he set his fingers on the soft tablecloth, letting the texture slide against his skin. "I've never had anything but nutrient-enriched gruel, to be honest. Why are you treating me so..." Hare paused, thinking of the word. "So equal? I'm not equal. You could squash me like a bug, or hire someone to do it if you're squeamish, or, or..." He pursed his lips, looking down into his lap, unsure what to say. Everything about the morning was unnerving, in a sense.

Nathaniel flicked his hand in the air easily, as if waving off the question.

"See, I need a Pet to squash my bugs _for_ me. If I treated you poorly, you'd refuse to squash said bugs, then there would be an infestation, and I'd be covered in bread&butterflies, rockinghorseflies, and the like. So, I treat you well so you will squash them, when the time comes," and then, as an afterthought, "Yes, real berries."

Nathaniel was smiling, hoping the joking manner of his response in no way detracted from the true meaning of his words. He disappeared into the kitchen looking for Owl, the head chef that typically prepared his morning meals. He was nowhere to be found as, due to Doberman's wake-up call, it was much earlier in the morning than usual. After rifling in the cupboards for a moment, he found the jar of handmade bran flakes and scooped a fair amount into two bowls, topped them with chilled berries from the icebox, and poured a modest amount of milk on top. It was lucky he had promised cereal instead of pancakes and eggs because, truth be told, cereal was the only thing he could make aside from toast.

"I've had lots of practice at squashing bugs," said Hare when Nathaniel reemerged. "I'm very good at it. Very dependable."

Nathaniel smiled, setting the bowl in front of him and handing him a golden spoon.

"That's good to know. I'm sure there will be all sorts of monstrous insects for you to deal with."

But by that point, Hare was no longer listening. He was holding the spoon, staring at himself in the back of it and then glancing down at his cereal, back and forth. It was evident that Nathaniel had prepared the cereal himself, and he could tell from a small nibble of the spoon that he was about to be eating with pure gold—two things he had never anticipated for a life that was supposed to be short and miserable.

"This looks so lovely, Nathaniel..." he whispered as his master took a seat beside him. But Nathaniel shook his head as he gazed down upon the sloppy presentation of berries and brown cereal.

"Owl would have decorated it with mint sprigs and arranged the berries in some enticing way," he said as he dug in, playfully tossing a napkin in Hare's direction. "But next time, _you_ will prepare it. We'll take turns when Owl is away."

Just then, the main door swung open to reveal Mr. Orington. He stood there for a moment, wearing an expensive velvet robe, his arms folded over his chest. Owl stood obediently behind him.

Hare's very first bite of cereal was perched precariously on his spoon, and his fingers shook so badly that it clattered to the table, spraying little droplets of milk and flakes of bran onto the pristine tablecloth. A furious blush worked its way to his cheeks.

"Good morning Nathaniel, Hare," said Mr. Orington firmly in his deep, authoritative voice. He nodded to both of them, but his subtle scowl revealed his intense displeasure at Hare's place at the table.

"G-good morning, Master Orington," said Hare carefully. He averted his eyes, lowering them automatically in submission. Perhaps he had no reason to fear the man, but he saw the scowl. It was directed straight at him. "I hope you found peace in your slumber last evening." It was something cold and thoughtless that Matilda had taught him. He was hoping it would placate the man.

"I had a lovely evening. Thank you," he said coldly, though he appreciated the respect the comment showed. He considered for a moment mentioning the proper place and food for Pets at mealtimes, but he kept his mouth shut. He was not surprised that Nathaniel was so openly mocking the system upon which society was built. Nathaniel was nearly a man, would soon have a family of his own, and could be coddled no longer. Society would correct him on its own. And, aside from that, it wasn't worth the fight that would ensue. So instead, Mr. Orington simply said, "Nathaniel, show Hare around and make sure he understands his duties."

With that, he marched to the kitchen with Owl following quickly after. Nathaniel stuck his tongue out in a very childish way after his father.

"Do this, Nathaniel. Do that. Go there," he said mockingly, borrowing his father's impersonal, self-important tone. His nose was wrinkled for a moment in annoyed disgust, but his face softened as he dug his spoon into his cereal once more. He handed Hare's spoon back to him as he took a bite. "Eat, Hare, and I'll tell you your duties from here."

Hare leaned a little closer to Nathaniel, sensing instinctively that he would protect him if anything bad were to happen. He'd protect Nathaniel too, if he ever got an opportunity to do so. He was delightful, really, more than Hare had ever thought of hoping for back in the dreary valley where he was raised.

He lifted the spoon carefully to his mouth, a single flake of bran and a single berry perched there in a puddle of milk. He slowly leaned in and took his first bite of real food. The perfect crunch of the cereal, the coldness of the milk, the way the berries squished so easily in comparison, everything joined in a whirlwind of flavor that nearly knocked him from his chair. But then suddenly Nathaniel was talking about tasks, and though he was using a snide, sarcastic tone, he made it sound impossibly difficult.

"...a huge, scary list of _backbreaking_ tasks that only a _fuzzy_ creature could handle," he was saying, gesticulating with his white-gloved hands.

"I fear I'm not very strong..." Hare murmured, looking into those patient hazel eyes. "But I'll do my best. I promise. What are they?"

"They are as follows. One," and he held up one finger. "In the morning, you are to make sure I do not leave the room without pants. My father_despises_ that. But on that note, I suppose it would be alright _once_ in a while. Two: During the day, when I am away at school, you are to help the others in the house. I know that it's not the most enjoyable task. It may consist of chopping carrots or folding laundry, but I have already informed Dormouse that you should get a fair amount of rest during the day. During that rest, you are to eat any food you see, look at any books you find, nap, or anything else you please, such as going outside and playing. Three: When I return from school in the afternoon, you are to stay at my side and do whatever I tell you, which will consist of laughing at my bad jokes and not telling my parents when I sneak off and cause mischief. And finally four: At night, you are to have pleasant dreams. If they are not pleasant, you are to report to my room so that I may comfort you." Nathaniel smiled, taking a big heaping spoonful of cereal and berries and speaking around it as he crunched. "How's that? Any requests?"

Hare beamed, laughing at the silly list of chores. Nathaniel was so friendly, so smooth and suave and confident. Hare felt like a better person, just for having known him a few hours.

"I'd be happy to help the other Pets, but...I want to cause mischief too," he mumbled, smiling a silly little smile up at Nathaniel. He crunched at his cereal and drank all the purple, berry-stained milk when it was gone, his stomach aching from fullness.

Nathaniel raised his eyebrows, taking a slow gulp of milk.

"Oh, you do? And here I thought I bought a docile white Pet, not a partner in crime." Nathaniel stood, smirking.

"I'll be a wonderful partner in crime. I keep very good secrets," Hare mumbled, following suit. Nathaniel reached for the empty bowls, but Hare snatched them up quickly, nearly falling over in the process. He liked the thought of helping Nathaniel. "Show me where to put them?"

It was then that Mr. Orington reemerged from the kitchen, a small ferret Pet carrying a tray of food after him.

Nathaniel placed his hands on his hips, face mock angry as he turned to Hare.

"AND THAT IS THAT," he shouted at Hare, giving a wink and gesturing madly toward the kitchen. "NOW GO BUILD ME A PYRAMID, PET!"

Mr. Orington opened his mouth to say something, but as he surveyed the situation, he decided against it. He only barked out a flat, "Have a good day, Nathaniel," then shook his head and left.

"Build you a pyramid of what?" asked Hare innocently when he was gone, following Nathaniel toward the kitchen with the bowls held preciously against his chest.

"Of marshmallows. Build me a pyramid of marshmallows and chocolate," he responded, but his tone was sad, and he leaned against the wall next to the kitchen's door.

"Your father doesn't understand you very well, does he? Does he always disapprove so much?"

Nathaniel closed his eyes and folded his arms over his chest.

"He doesn't even yell. He just talks with all this authority in his voice. He just talks _at_ me," he said, and Hare wasn't imagining the wounded tone he heard behind Nathaniel's words. But his face hardened slightly as he shook his head and led Hare into the kitchen, pointing out where to put the dishes. "I never really understood before, you know. But now I do. Your kind are just like mine...with funny ears."

"And funny tails," Hare added as he dropped the dishes carefully into the designated sink. "Funny tails, too. Anyhow, I'm going to work on your marshmallow pyramid when you're away at school. I'm going to get chocolate everywhere. It will be messy."

"Be sure to tell them it's a task directly from me," said Nathaniel, brightening a little at Hare's idea of turning the joke into something tangible. "For now, let's go explore."

**oooooooooo**

The long halls of the Orington estate held many stories, and as Nathaniel led Hare along, he told him the interesting bits. The manor itself was built a few decades ago by Nathaniel's grandfather, who had risen to an unheard of social status with his import-export business. He had been a peasant with aspirations, carefully building his dreams from the ground and making success his own. Hare, though, was more interested in how Nathaniel related to his childhood home, and they spent a good amount of the afternoon investigating the places Nathaniel had hidden when he was younger. There were a great number of them—behind tapestries, in large closets, in service corridors that had fallen into disuse. One such corridor ended in a small room plastered with maps and strewn with musty pillows.

"Did they teach you anything about Wonderland when you were raised?" asked Nathaniel, sliding his fingers over a worn map of the city.

To Matilda, knowledge was power, and power in the hands of a Pet was nothing but dangerous. Hare shook his head.

"Well, step over here, then."

Hare approached the large piece of parchment plastered to the wall and cocked his head slightly to the side, trying to make sense of it all.

"This is the capital city, you see, where we are now," explained Nathaniel gently. "It's a view of the buildings, from above."

Hare leaned in closer, peering at the little sun-bleached lines and symbols carefully drawn there.

"Oh!" exclaimed Hare as the images resolved into tiny buildings and roads. "Like we're flying above the city. Like birds!"

"Yes. And that bird would see us _here_," he said, touching one of the largest manors on the map. "In the House of Spades."

With great patience, he pointed out the southern mountains, the ones they had come through on their journey to Wonderland's capital on a long, winding road. He showed him how each district of the city had the shape of a card suit—Diamond to the south, Club to the east, Spade to the west, and the Royal Suit of Hearts to the very north.

"Each House sees the world a little differently," said Nathaniel as Hare leaned in to examine the houses. "Diamond citizens are very concerned with the appearance of wealth. To live in the manor there is to live nearly as plentifully as the Queen herself, to which she sometimes takes offense. Club citizens are most concerned with social affairs. There are three main manors there, and even _you_ lack enough ear to hear all the gossip that exists between them. Spade citizens prize hard work and complex business tactics, and tend to profit well from them. And the Royal House, which prizes power...Well, I'm sure you've heard the horror stories there."

Hare knew card suits all too well himself, but in a different context. Once, Ostrich had stolen a pack of cards from a visiting baron and all Matilda's Pets had made up games to play with them at night. But then, as Matilda had promised that any joy would invariably end, Ostrich was hanged for her extreme disobedience. Hare's ears fell across his eyes in sadness at the memory. Nathaniel, who believed him to slump in sadness about the horror of the Royal House, gently wrapped an arm around the Hare and roused him from the state with a gentle nudge.

"And you're from here," he said gently, moving to the next map on the wall and pointing to a clearing in the vast forest. "See? Here is the capital, and here is how far we had to travel to have the good fortune of getting you." Nathaniel's white-gloved fingers traced the winding road far to the east. As Hare examined the little clearing, he realized that had anyone managed to escape, there was truly nothing but dense forest in store for them. The capital was closest, and even that was through the mountains. Matilda had been right when she told them escape was a futile attempt.

"Is this all of it?" he asked incredulously.

"All of what?" asked Nathaniel, looking down at the disbelieving Hare, amused.

"The world!"

Nathaniel laughed kindly at that and guided Hare onward, to a map of the whole of Wonderland, where the sprawling city was the size of a pea, and where different shading indicated the use of the country's land. The coast was good for fishing, the riverbeds good for farming, the mountains good for mining, and the other large dots represented the industrial centers of the Queendom. Hare stumbled forward, placing his hands on the map, sliding them over its worn surface.

"And even that is only the Queendom," said Nathaniel, unrolling a much larger map. "_This_ is the entire world. Here's Wonderland, see? This island here. But there are others as well. Fantasyland is here, just across a little water. Farther off are Orientatum and Indoninja. And this one," he said, pointing to a large, ill-defined mass of land to the far west, "this one is Neverland, because no on has _ever_ been there."

"If no one's ever _been_ there, how do you know it _exists_?" asked Hare astutely.

"People have sailed _around_ it, but no one has ever set foot on it, you see. Word is, it'll become Heartland, after the Queen, once it's been properly explored. Unless it's dreadful. Actually, _especially_ if it's dreadful."

Nathaniel couldn't help but chuckle at his own statement, and he soon broke into good-natured laughter, but Hare just stared up at him looking a little bug-eyed.

"You look like you swallowed something poisonous," noted Nathaniel, raising an eyebrow as he turned back to the map, rolling it back up carefully.

Hare had a hand clamped over his mouth.

"You...you spoke ill of our gracious ruler, the Queen!" he exclaimed in a vehement whisper behind his fingers, not wanting anyone to hear, though they were quite alone. "Is that..._allowed_? Are you allowed to do that?"

"You, having such reverence for the Queen!" Nathaniel spun on his heel in shock, map still in hand. Hare cowered, for its heavy, thick parchment could be used as a weapon against him quite easily, and his master's tone conveyed an unprecedented amount of disgust. "Who do you think approves the zoning for that awful place you grew up in? They've trained you to praise the queen, the vicious queen who not only ignores her subjects, but encourages their blind submission at any cost!"

Nathaniel was going a bit red. Hare stared up at him, his eyes hard and shining and frightened, trembling under such a sharp and direct burst of words. He nervously took a few steps back, tripping over his feet clumsily and falling into a pile of pillows, sending a cloud of dust into the air. He was terrified of Nathaniel's anger. But inside Nathaniel, it wasn't really anger. It was surprise—deeply-rooted astonishment. He had been certain that a deep-seated hatred for the tyrant queen was something they would certainly have in common. He had looked forward to finding one other person in the entire world with whom he could share that conviction. But perhaps he was expecting too much of the poor hare, who had just that day been given a chance at a future. At any rate, he realized he must have looked fearsome to the poor creature, and fell silent, dropping his hands and taking a few calming breaths as he let the map clatter to the floor.

"No, Hare," he said gently, shaking his head. "No one is permitted to say such things. But they should be. And it's why I do."

Hare was still trembling nervously as he gazed up at his master.

"I know what she's d-done, how evil she is. I've just never met anyone like you before. I've never met someone who isn't afraid to say w-what they really think of her," he mumbled. His eyes appeared to tear up for a moment and he crawled forward, wrapping his arms around his master's knees and pressing his face into the leg of his expensive trousers. "Forgive me, for speaking out of line."

"Hey, now," said Nathaniel reassuringly as he reached down to help Hare back to his feet. "You can say whatever comes to mind. You're allowed to, with me. Just don't pretend to respect that fat, moldy joker of hearts. Don't pretend _anything_. Now, what do you say we go look around a bit more?"

**oooooooooo**

The sun was setting, coloring the Wonderland sky bright pinks and oranges above the tall trees of the Orington estate. Nathaniel and his hare sat under the largest one, relaxing in the soft grass as night began to spread its darkness over the bright colors. They had spent the day in further exploration of the estate, even sneaking into the manor's basement warehouses where the Orington Import-Export goods were kept and dodging the busy Housepets hauling boxes around. In one room they had found a wooden chest of old hats and Nathaniel tried them on, trying to find one like the family heirloom his grandfather wore. When they failed, for nothing could be as simply elegant as the Orington forefather was, Nathaniel showed Hare to the large gardens. There they spent the afternoon exploring the paths and small forests, admiring the extensive flower gardens with their sculpted bushes, and picking choice flowers for the bouquet on the dining room table.

"How did you like the mischief we got into today?" asked Nathaniel lazily as he wove a long blade of grass around his fingers. His white gloves were already tinged a light green from the action.

Hare leaned back against the thick trunk of the tree and watched, trying to imitate the soft and graceful movements of Nathaniel's fingers as they kept the blade moving, flowing around each finger as if by magic. His only got tangled.

"Sneaking into the basement, you mean?" he asked as he tossed his kinked blade of grass aside and chose another to try, plucking it from the earth. "I thought it was very exciting."

"Would more severe mischief be exciting?" Nathaniel asked, reaching over and weaving the grass properly around Hare's shorter fingers.

"By extension, it would be _more_ exciting," said Hare, furrowing his brow in concentration as his master moved his fingers for him, showing him how it was done.

"Then there's one last place I should show you. It should be dark enough by now."

That got Hare's attention, and he looked up at his master with his soft magenta eyes as the grass got tangled once again. Nathaniel laughed softly and slipped the grass away, letting it float to the ground as he stood, tugging Hare gently with him.

"We're going to have to be quick," said Nathaniel, turning toward the north and squinting into the distance. He began a brisk jog and called back to Hare gently, "Stay close."

Hare smiled, jogging quickly to keep up, bounding across the forest floor. He picked up speed, but still his master was slipping farther and farther ahead of him, and he was struggling to keep him in sight. When Nathaniel realized the only footfalls he heard were his own, he paused and turned around, surveying the forest.

"Hare!" he called out, retracing his steps. He found the little ball of white fur panting and out of breath, obviously unaccustomed to so much exercise. Nathaniel remembered the tiny little house where he had been kept, with barely enough room to stretch, let alone run.

"Here, hold on," said Nathaniel gently as he lifted the Pet and put him on his back, perfectly willing to give the tired creature a piggyback ride as he darted northward once more.

Hare couldn't help but let out a soft laugh of exhilaration as he clung to Nathaniel with all his might, nestling his cheek into the warmth of his soft shirt and watching the trees fly by. They soon came to a field of thick teal wheat that stretched all the way to a far-off tin-roofed barn. During the day, many Pets were working it with careful hands, tending to stalks, spreading fertilizer, and checking soil composition. At night it was left untended, and Nathaniel didn't hesitate in darting into one of the long rows and racing toward the barn. Hare stuck his hand out, laughing in glee at the feel of the stalks rushing past his palm. Normally he would have been frightened of punishment for such a sound of happiness, but he was beginning to see that Nathaniel was nothing like the others of his world. He seemed truly one of a kind, and he realized then that from that moment on, the only person he would respect with the reverence of royalty would be his new master.

They arrived then, Nathaniel slowing to a walk as the large building loomed in front of them. The metal of its roof was reflecting the moonlight in a soft white glow.

"It's kind of scary in there," said Nathaniel as Hare slid to the ground. "I'll hold your hand."

Hare smiled as Nathaniel's warm gloved hand enveloped his own, which was slightly chilled from the night air. The two found an unlocked side door, which allowed them to slip into the barn. It was impossibly dark inside and Nathaniel found his way around through touch and memory alone, evading bags of fertilizer and shelves of equipment. He eventually led them to a wooden staircase, and after a few mishaps on Hare's part, they made it to the second floor. An electric lantern was within reach, and even its dim light momentarily blinded them.

"So many spots in my eyes!" groaned Hare, laughing as he blinked to clear his vision.

There were long tables on the floor, stretching as far as the soft light would shine to show them. Something was piled upon them. Whatever it was, they were delicately covered by squares of gold satin fabric. Nathaniel ducked under the closest table, motioning for Hare to join him, and as the small white hare took his place at his master's side, Nathaniel reached up and slid his hand under one of the fabric squares. It soon reemerged holding a pink teacake filled with peach crème.

"I bet you never had these in the cottage," he said with a self-satisfied smirk as he broke the cake in half, offering some to Hare. The crème oozed onto his glove.

Hare's eyes widened as he took his half from Nathaniel's waiting hand, sniffing it thoroughly, taking in every scent he could.

"I've never seen anything like this before," he gasped, his fingers brushing tenderly over the pastry. "Is this...this entire bit for me?"

Nathaniel smiled a little wider as he took a bite of his half.

"Technically, they're for a party my father is having in honor of the queen tomorrow. But you know how I feel about the queen, and I believe it to be your right to nibble on all the teacakes your little heart desires, stealing or not."

It felt like an epiphany to Hare. He was meant to be here, he was sure, disobeying the queen, touching a teacake he wasn't meant to touch, and when he bit into the sweet little pastry, he let out a soft moan of surprise. His eyes fluttered shut and his ears drooped over them, his body going half limp against Nathaniel's side as the flavors assaulted his tongue. Never before had he had this experience. He had been raised on gruel—only gruel and coldheartedness—for as long as he could remember. But now there was cake in the world, and there was Nathaniel. Now things were looking up.

Nathaniel saw the glimmer in Hare's eye as he ate the peach crème, the same glimmer he saw whenever his father made a sale, whenever the house tailor sewed a seam, whenever his grandfather finished the delicate inner-workings of a clock. He could tell beyond a shadow of a doubt that this was Hare's true calling in life, a place he would excel without question. Nathaniel was inspired, mad with ideas. He began rushing about, grabbing all different treats: a chocolate raspberry éclair, a honey lavender puff, a mint julep turnover.

"Try this!" Hatter said over and over, placing a morsel in Hare's paws and darting off to find another. He had piled about twenty treats in front of him before he was struck with an idea. "Wait here!" he said, leaving Hare under the table with the treats, running toward the back of the room.

Hare, who had never seen such fine food in his life, was tempted to gorge himself on the veritable feast that Nathaniel had laid in front of him, but he restrained himself, knowing somehow that all the sweet, beautiful goodness would make him ill if he overindulged. He nibbled softly at each one, distinguishing differences in flavor and naming them in his head, trying to keep them straight. He wondered at the happiness he saw in his master's eyes. When he darted away, Hare began to feel a little nervous. What if he was caught there alone with all the illicit pastries? But he trusted Nathaniel would be back for him, so he remained under the table, carefully examining the plethora of tarts and pastries, sniffing and tasting and feeling them, and waiting.

A few minutes later, Nathaniel returned holding a cup of hot liquid. He held it out to the hare, sitting close.

"Taste this," he said as Hare carefully leaned in. "It's the purest form of tea. It's a black tea made with the freshest herbs and spices, imported from Orientatum."

Nathaniel watched closely, hoping his inkling was correct. He had a world of fancy teas to choose from, all destined for the Queen's private store, and he ended up choosing the purest and most natural for the Housepet's first taste.

Hare leaned in, letting the steam drift to his nose, taking in the sharp, pure scent of it. His ears twitched in response and he nibbled on the porcelain for a moment before placing his hand over Nathaniel's, steadying the teacup and taking a small sip. Again, flavor accosted his tongue, and he could feel the warmth of it in his stomach, heating him from the inside.

"Oh, Master Orington," he gasped, indulging in another sip. "This is lovely. This is tea, you say? Are there different teas, like there are different pastries?" He turned to the small array of pastries in front of him and sniffed delicately at each one, eventually lifting the chocolate raspberry eclair and dipping the edge of it slightly in the amber liquid. "Tell me...do I understand this correctly?" he asked, holding the dipped pastry to his master's lips. "These two should be paired. It's like...the bird and the nest. The seed and the field. One brightens and molds the other, so that both turn out better for having the other with them. Perhaps like me...and like you..." Hare looked down then, a wild blush having consumed his cheeks, for he had never made such a long and metaphoric speech in his life. But the pastry was still placed at Nathaniel's lips, ready for him to taste.

Nathaniel listened in wonder, blinking, smiling at the beauty and depth of his hare's natural inclination toward the art of flavors. He leaned in, taking a nibble of the dipped pastry, and his eyes widened with surprise at the way the flavors did exactly what Hare had described. They were greater together than either one was separately.

"You will make a great pastry chef one day. Do you understand?" he asked, his eyebrows rising in his surprise. "You are the brightest Housepet I've ever met in my entire life!"

Hare's blush only deepened. He leaned against Nathaniel and found an encouraging hug waiting for him there. He felt safe and warm in a way he only vaguely remembered from the first week of his life, when he was allowed to nestle into his mother and live from her kind and gentle nourishment. Hare could feel his modesty overtaking him, though, and he mumbled, "But there are so many Housepets, and all so good at their work. Surely I'm not the very brightest. I was nearly stew so many times in the cottage. But I'm glad to have made you happy tonight. I'm happy too. I would love to learn this, to make these beautiful pastries, to prepare tea to perfection. This is beauty."

Hare lifted another teacake and licked tentatively at the frosting. He got some on his nose, and Nathaniel snorted in amusement before wiping it off.

"You know, I get lonely in the manor. My parents have passed me off to others since the moment I was born, and the Pets are often too busy with the business to explore the grounds and pick flowers and taste treats with me. I'll get Owl to teach you all he knows about treats, as long as you promise never to let business keep you from being my friend."

Hare could sense a note of hurt in Nathaniel's tone, could see the tiny signs of worry as they crept their way onto his warm features.

"You will never have to feel lonely now," Hare said, stifling a yawn. His ears flopped down, falling to the sides of his head in sleepiness. "I never thought I would get to have a friend. I promise you as long as I live, you will be my first priority, and we shall always be friends."

Nathaniel helped to haul the sleepy Pet up, wrapping an arm around him to steady him as they trudged down the stairs and back toward the manor.

"One day, when I have my own place, would you mind making me tea? Your ability to combine those flavors amazed me. I'd love to wake up to that," he said as they followed the forest's winding path. They were soon at the flower garden, growing ever closer to the large house.

"I would be honored to make tea for you," mumbled Hare as they ascended the large staircase together. He bowed as they parted ways, but Nathaniel just laughed and reached out to set him upright again.

"Get some sleep, and come find me when you wake," said Nathaniel with a gentle, sleepy smile.

Hare donned his nightclothes and climbed under his blankets, immensely thankful for all he had been given that day. Not even two days ago, he had been a beaten prisoner. Now, there was an opportunity for something better. His mind wove the possibilities into a crazy dream as he drifted off. There was a long table piled with plates of sugary pastries, lined with pots of every tea there ever was. And sitting at the head of it, dressed in a splendid hat, was Nathaniel.


	3. A Day in the Life of a Spade

Author's Note: Sorry about the long time it took for me to update this. November is always a terribly busy month for me school-wise. And now it's finals time! But I promised one of you that it would be up by the end of the week, and it is! As always, I appreciate any comments you've got for me (:

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**Chapter Three: A Day in the Life of a Spade**

Hare hovered awkwardly at the edge of the large, mahogany bed, resting his paw against one of its thick posts. A vague outline of his slumbering master was visible through the bed's slightly sheer curtains, and Hare couldn't help but pull them back to peek inside. Nathaniel was still dozing, wrapped in peace and contentment in his rich, silky blankets. Waking a master had never been his strong point, back in Matilda's awful cottage, and he found himself growing nervous for his first real performance of the task.

"Master Orington?" His whisper was quiet, like a soft breeze stirring the long grass in the garden. The young rabbit leaned in, nudging his sleeping master's cheek with his nose, just as he would have roused any of his brothers and sisters as they dozed peacefully near their mother in their first week of life. Nathaniel was still despite Hare's best efforts, his chest rising and falling with breath slowly, up and down. He seemed to Hare like a stone, unmovable and unwaking, but he was determined. Doberman said that Nathaniel's father would likely punish him if he was not awake for school at the proper hour, and the thought of Nathaniel being punished was unthinkable, especially when it was his own job to wake him. The morning light had just started bleeding through the thin blue curtains of the extravagant bedroom, and Hare knew his window of opportunity was shrinking. Feeling a little more desperate, he dared to reach in and shake his arm. "N-Nathaniel?"

Nathaniel was surrounded by floating cotton candy clouds and blueberry bluebirds with spiraled pig tails. It was all simple and yet so masterfully complex. The little candy birds would dart through the clouds, grabbing at their tantalizing sugary fluff, and feed him tiny morsels with their little claws. It was all quite delicious. But suddenly everything started to shake, and the bluebirds were darting about wildly and all squeaking "Nathaniel? Nathaniel!" And then came a stab of bright light as his eyes fluttered open, the voice clarifying into a newly familiar one.

Nathaniel rubbed at them as he rolled over, brown hair a mess, his cheeks carrying their typical soft morning blush. Hare staggered back a little, crouching beside the bed until only his eyes and his twitching pink nose peeked over the edge of the mattress, nervous that Nathaniel would be upset about being tugged from such a peaceful state.

But the young Orington just smiled a sleepy morning grin, stifled a yawn, and said, "Yes, Hare? Am I late for a very important date?"

Hare hesitantly straightened up a bit, encouraged by the spirited kindness shining in his master's eyes.

"Er. A date? I don't know. Do you have one I haven't heard about?" asked Hare, stepping back and looking up at Nathaniel with wide pink eyes.

"Not unless it's being forced on me," laughed Nathaniel as he stretched, his joints popping in protest.

Hare couldn't help but giggle too, and it was only then that he remembered the letter he had tucked in his breast pocket. He withdrew it and offered it to Nathaniel.

"I have a message for you. Well, really an envelope. I didn't look inside. Though, it's probably a message, as people aren't in the business of giving out fancy _empty _envelopes with wax seals," he said, considering it at an arm's length. Embarrassingly enough, there was a smudge of sticky red marring one of the corners, for Opossum had been kind enough to share her morning snack of crackers and jam with him.

"Are you sure you didn't peek?" teased Nathaniel as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, wobbling for a moment before finding his balance. He stumbled to the ornate chest of drawers a few steps away, wearing nothing but the silky black shorts and white undershirt he had slept in. A moment later those too were flung away, leaving him bare as he considered the day's clothing options.

Hare tried his best not to look at Nathaniel in such a state, out of respect, but found his eyes darting back to him. He was curious, for he had never seen a human truly, without all its adornments of clothing and jewels. Nathaniel, as it turned out, was tall and lean, with sharp angles and smooth, detailed musculature that drew the eye along his limbs and down his back. He dressed only in a new pair of shorts and another undershirt before turning to Hare, who rubbed shyly at the little spot of jam on the envelope and only managed to make it more obvious.

Nathaniel laughed softly as he took it from Hare's fingers, and the nervous hare flinched hard even though punishment for the infraction was unlikely.

"I see Opossum has been feeding you," Nathaniel said kindly as he rested his hand on Hare's head, finding it deeply endearing whenever the new Pet flinched. He ruffled the tuft of white fur there, smiling pleasantly as he moved to one of the thick armchairs across the room. He flopped onto it, looking very unlike his strict and proper family in his casual, slouching way of sitting, his legs dangling over the edge of the chair as he pulled on a pair of soft white gloves. Hare, though, sat in the chair next to him with care, showing his impeccable posture and smiling a little. Nathaniel was looking down at the symbol stamped in the wax, his family crest, and he could feel the apprehension building in his chest. Messages from his own family were never good news. He slid his finger under the wax seal, breaking it open and withdrawing the letter delicately.

_Nathaniel,_ it read, _I have a very important matter to discuss with you. Meet me in my study before you depart with Elk for the Academy this morning. Wear appropriate clothing. Bring your Housepet if you please._

Though it was unsigned, he knew it was from his father, and he felt an expression of disgust fall onto his attractive features.

"My father wishes to see me," he said coldly, tossing the paper onto the gold-trimmed table in front of him. "He has a 'very important matter' to discuss."

Hare observed his master for a few moments with wide pink eyes, his head tilted as he tried to puzzle through all the emotions on Nathaniel's face.

"That upsets you," said Hare gently, leaning in closer to get a better look at the boy's troubled hazel eyes.

Nathaniel chuckled harshly for a moment before looking away, crossing his arms over his chest and huffing out a sharp, angry breath.

"Why exactly must he make appointments with me? I'm his god-damned son, aren't I?" he spat. "Don't most families sit around their dining table together as they share their evening meal and chat? No, no. Not the Oringtons! We schedule each other, like business clients. Blast appropriate clothing!"

Though he said that, he crossed back to his chest of drawers and donned his gray trousers, a white button-up shirt, and a black vest with gold buttons. He scowled at himself in the mirror as he tied a teal tie around his neck. Hare hovered back, pressing himself into his chair even though the venom in Nathaniel's words was not directed at him. He had heard enough stories of masters displacing their anger onto their unwitting Pets to be cautious.

"You know, Hare," said Nathaniel, his voice somewhat calmer as he ran a comb through his unruly locks, "I've always liked my hair. My parents can't stand it, but my grandmother says it makes me look wild, untamed; mad as a hatter."

This memory was enough to put a smile back on his face, and Nathaniel waved Hare over. He approached without hesitation, feeling silly for suspecting Nathaniel of something so awful. From what he had seen of the Orington family, they left their son to his own devices. It had to be difficult for him, to be ignored at such an important time in his life, when he needed their guidance. Hare helped him on with his suit jacket and smoothed it down his back, even buttoning it for him.

They made their way to the staircase then, following its velvet-clad spiral to the third floor. As usual, different Pets were buzzing about, cleaning and fixing various areas of the hall. Nathaniel was used to it, and it escaped his notice; Hare, though, was a little astounded by all the commotion, the house alive with the movement of dozens of creatures all with a goal, a purpose, and all with a frantic sense of energy. He was so wrapped in his own thoughts as he observed the quiet clamor of all the Pets that he walked several steps after Nathaniel stopped and had to rush back to him. They stood in front of an ornately carved door inlaid with flecks of gold.

"This probably isn't going to be fun, Hare. 'We don't like the direction your life is headed. Get a girlfriend. Find a passion,'" Nathaniel mimicked in a serious, deep voice with an aristocratic gesture of the hand. "I just want a witness to confirm that he's _astoundingly_ unreasonable."

"I know you're going somewhere. I can see the passion in your eyes," said Hare firmly, hoping he wasn't overstepping his boundaries. "You'll know what your passion is supposed to be when you find it, whatever it is."

A weak, uncertain smile was all Nathaniel could drum up.

He opened the door to the study, which was surprisingly large and immaculate, and drew Hare inside gently. The moment they stepped in, the fragrant and acrid scent of expensive tobacco enveloped them. Red velvet curtains hung heavy on golden rods, bookshelves with thick volumes lined the walls, and the gargantuan wooden desk held an imposing, demanding presence at the end of the room. It was a wooden continent in a sea of velvet, and Hare felt a little wobbly as they traversed the extraordinarily expensive tasseled rug from Perza.

Nathaniel tossed himself haphazardly into one of the plush, high-backed armchairs. Hare held back, uncertain until the Orington son gestured gently at the chair to his right.

"Sit next to me. Don't stand in the corner like the rest," he said, his annoyance at his father peaking higher every moment. The idiotic Housepet rules were meant only to encourage division and subservience, and they were all complete rubbish.

The moment Hare sat, the study doors burst open again and he leapt up, fearing immediate punishment for his indiscretion. Nathaniel, alarmed at his sudden movement, reached out and took his hand lightly.

"It's okay," he whispered. "Take a seat..."

Mr. Orington was a strong, built man with soft brown hair like his son's. He had a serious and stern disposition, a slightly haughty air of superiority as he dictated duties to Doberman, who followed him with a fancy black quill, scribbling down everything that needed to be done that day. The man didn't notice that his son and his Housepet sat before him until he had shuffled a considerable number of maps and papers around on his desk for a moment.

"Ah, Nathaniel," he said, clearing his throat and glancing at his heavy golden pocketwatch. "I suppose you wonder why I've called you here."

Nathaniel said nothing; he sat with crossed arms, waiting for the lecture he was sure would come.

"Nathaniel, I want to be frank with you," said his father, leaning closer in an attempt to appear more personable. He rested his elbows on the desk and clasped his hands lightly together. "I've spent my entire life building this empire of import and export, dealing with vendors and manufacturers here in Wonderland and beyond its borders. I've built a strong and lasting bond with the Queen herself which is not an easy task, as any citizen knows. But I'm beginning to worry over the future of this industry and this company. I won't be around forever. I want to pass this fortune, this wealth, this security onto you and your brother when I'm gone, but it's truly a family job, as you understand. I would be lost without your mother's insight, for a feminine hand can be very effective in matters of business. She and I have been talking as of late, and we have made some...decisions...about the path your future may take."

Nathaniel felt his stomach fill with a cold, heavy dread. He pressed his lips together in a thin, hard line and sat back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest.

"And I get no say? What exactly have you and mother so _expertly _chosen to be my future? Will I be kissing the Queen's feet with diamonds from Fantasyland and rare spices from Indoninja? Or will you find a better, more suited person for that and ban me from it all? Tell me what the crystal ball has in store for me, oh great one," Nathaniel spat, his words carelessly irreverent, his eyes narrowed in frustration. He had heard this all too many times before, and perhaps he had been careless to think he could evade the issue forever. He knew exactly what was coming.

"You will NOT speak to me like that in my own house, Nathaniel," barked his father. Hare began to tremble a little in his seat, and he tucked himself back into the chair as far as he would go. "We've arranged you a date this evening with a lovely girl from the House of Clubs. And you best treat her with dignity and respect. Your mother said it was an absolute necessity before we arranged your marriage to her, though I don't see the point."

"Marriage? The House of Clubs? Those liquor pushers? What, a pretty, tiny, spoiled girl with more dresses and diamonds than a wedding shop? The last thing I ever want to do is play house with some stuck up, weak little..._bitch_."

Nathaniel tore himself from his chair and shoved it back as if it were attacking him. Hare, flustered by the tenseness in the room, scurried behind him and clung feebly to his sides.

"Come on, Hare," he growled, wrapping an arm around the small hare's shoulders and guiding him out of the study gently.

"You're going on that date, Nathaniel!" shouted Mr. Orington as the door slammed shut.

Every pet within earshot was staring as Nathaniel stopped at the stairway, fists clenched and breath furiously hissing. Hare fidgeted with the buttons on his vest as he watched Nathaniel pace and fume, frustration evident in his eyes.

"Imagine it," Nathaniel huffed, shaking his head, a sardonic smile on his face as he slumped against the wall. "Me, holding hands with a girl, kissing her cheek as I order a lobster!"

"There's nothing inherently wrong with lobsters," said Hare absently as he ran his fingers over the ornately-carved handrail. "I've known some very pleasant ones."

That brought on a slightly more genuine smile from Nathaniel and they both took to the stairs then, descending the large spirals and emerging on the ground floor of the large manor. A left turn took them toward the kitchens.

"Now, while I'm away at school, I thought you'd like to help Owl with meal preparation," said Nathaniel, trying to let his frustration cool as he slid open the simple wooden door. "I know it may seem like a lot to learn at first, but you'll do wonderfully once you've adjusted to it."

"I would like that!" gasped Hare as he crossed the threshold to stand a step inside. A barrage of sights, sounds, and smells assaulted his senses. Hare was taken aback at the bustle of the busy Pets. They were chopping and peeling, stirring and baking, carrying around platters of ingredients to dozens of separate workstations in a well-coordinated rush of activity. It was all an intimidatingly complex dance, so complicated that Hare scarcely noticed that Owl had stopped to stand next to him. The good-natured creature just chuckled and took Hare under his wing, nodding knowingly to Nathaniel as he guided him further into the room.

"I'll be back this afternoon!" Nathaniel called gently after them. Hare looked back and waved, beaming with excitement, before being engulfed by the buzz of activity.

**oooooooooo**

The gilded Orington coach stopped in the small circle of gravel outside the thick black gates of Spade Preparatory Academy. The large brick building was crawling with deep green ivy that wove elegantly up its walls and added to the old, respectable air of the place. Students sat on the wide front steps, nibbling on eccentric breakfast fare and chattering to one another in their affected Spade accents as much as possible before the morning bell called them away to their classes.

Nathaniel straightened his black vest and teal tie as Elk opened the door for him. He descended to the schoolyard, brushing his hair back as he passed through the wrought iron gates. The rush of typical daily gossip hit his ears the moment he was within hearing distance, but he paid it only the usual minimal attention. Apparently the young Duchess of Diamonds had been at Samuel's gala the night before and had disappeared upstairs with him before the first dance was even through. Nathaniel only shook his head in annoyance and proceeded to his first classroom.

Early morning sunlight poured through the tall windows to light the room. A huge blackboard stretching across the front wall was already loaded with the concepts and equations they would be learning that day, and Nathaniel took his place at the leftmost desk in the front row. As they were arranged by class rank, his position indicated his superior standing; he was the best student in the entire class. Advanced Economics was required by his father and dreadfully boring, but it was a simple enough course.

Nathaniel had a while before class, and he withdrew from his shoulderbag a thick sketchbook and the breakfast Owl had carefully packed for him. The crunch of the crispy apricot pastry reminded him of Hare hidden under the table, surrounded by an assortment of teacakes, and his hand instantly went to work sketching the scene from his memory. By the time he looked up once more, his peers had filled the room and his professor was doing his best to start the morning's lecture. Tearing the students' attention away from the morning's gossip was not an easy task. When the lecture finally started, Nathaniel filled a page with notes written in his flawless script, keeping respectfully quiet.

The morning continued to pass much the same way. Nathaniel kept to himself, took careful and precise notes, answered questions (correctly) when called upon, and consistently sat in the very first desk. This carried on throughout Accounting, which he despised, and Legal Ethics, which he adored. When the time came for the ethical debate portion of the class period, he spoke passionately against the power of parent-planned marriage arrangements. Most of that passion came from his fondness of legal logic, but a small part of it came from that morning's argument with his father, about which he felt bitter. Even the professor could not deny the power of his well-constructed argument and released them early for lunch.

It was a typical day, and lunch was a surprisingly impressive beef stew served with puffy white dumplings. Nathaniel sat alone, sketching until he had finished eating, and excused himself to the sunny school grounds. For the moment, he could escape the incessant gossip about the Duchess of Diamonds.

Often after lunch, when the school grounds were flooded with students and the chattering of his peers began to annoy him, Nathaniel slipped out of sight around the side of the school building where the ivy didn't grow. There was a small footpath beaten through thick brush that marked the boundary of the school's nature preserve. No one ever scolded him for entering the secluded area, even though a posted sign said students were strictly forbidden.

The first time he explored the small forest, early in his first year at the Academy, he discovered a small clearing against the school's coarse brick wall. It became his typical spot, a place to spend the remainder of his lunch hour in quiet repose, often sketching whatever came to mind. He had never seen another person in the several years he had been spending time there, so it came as a shock to him when, one day in his fifth year, someone else graced the clearing with a human presence.

The girl was in his year, he knew, but he couldn't recall her name. Her soft red hair fluttered in the gentle breeze and the sun shone in her vibrant green eyes. She looked as if she belonged in nature, in the clearing, so he didn't stop her when she lowered herself to the grass next to him, spreading her blue dress out around her and working quietly at weaving a crown of the little indigo flowers that spread through the long grass. When it was finished, a ring of green dotted with blossoms, she placed it carefully on Nathaniel's head, letting her fingers run through the soft sun-lit waves of his hair. It was only when she planted herself in his lap that Nathaniel realized what she wanted from him.

It was his first kiss, and it was delicate and cautious, carefully exploratory. He wasn't sure if it counted as one long kiss or many shorter ones, but he did know it all felt very strange to him. More than that, he knew he was rendered almost instantly confused. By the way the others in his class spoke, a young woman's kiss was a force to be reckoned with, something to desire above breath or food or sleep, but he didn't find it particularly enthralling. It was an unnecessarily moist, impossibly unsanitary activity, and after the first few moments, it was rather dull. But after the first female perched in his lap in the small grove—Elizabeth was her name, he later found out—he was almost never alone there again. Without even trying, he had gained a reputation for it. His silence on the matter cast him in the role of the mysterious, handsome, rich bachelor, the one male every female in his year wanted to see bearing flowers on her doorstep, asking for courtship.

At first, it was just a way to pass the usually unpleasant lunch hour. As time passed, it became a routine. Different day, different girl; or, on many occasions, the same girl. A flower crown, a caress of the hair, and then an impossible amount of kissing. The gossip about it was shameless.

But that day, late in his seventh and last year at the Academy, something changed. Nathaniel was sitting in his usual place, sketching a small sleeping owl perched in a tree across the clearing, when he heard the typical footfalls on the well-worn path. He didn't bother looking up. By that time, truth be told, all the company was beginning to annoy him. Whoever it was would sit, slowly and quietly make a crown of flowers, climb wordlessly into his lap, and kiss him until the bell summoned everyone back inside.

"I've heard about you," said the boy quietly. Nathaniel glanced up slowly after finishing the patch of shading he was working on, feigning disinterest. The figure standing there was younger than he by a year or so, built not tall and thin, but shorter and strong. His accent was slightly different from anything Nathaniel had heard before, something even the well-traveled Orington son couldn't place, and it was then Nathaniel remembered that the boy had recently transferred. There had been a big stir about it a month or so back, when he came to Wonderland from a far-off country where his father had set up a business and married a native woman. His eyes must have been from her, because they were a deep, expressive brown like nothing Nathaniel had ever seen.

"All charming things, I'm sure," Nathaniel replied, turning his eyes away from the handsome stranger as he stroked out the curve of the tree branch in his sketchbook, concentrating harder than necessary. He felt uneasy, as if the clearing was smaller due to the addition of another masculine presence.

The boy approached, shaking his sandy blond hair out of his eyes as he settled into the grass at Nathaniel's side.

"I'm Samuel," he said, plucking a single blade of the long, thick grass and twirling it around his fingers, keeping it moving again and again in circles, obviously a well-practiced motion. Nathaniel recognized it as one of his own and allowed himself to puzzle over it for a moment. "From New Selland, before you ask. My father went there long ago to create new business revenue. Didn't expect to fall in love there, but here I am."

Nathaniel looked over at him, his brow furrowed slightly in confusion, in frustration. Samuel could take a hint, and he smiled an easy, relaxed smile.

"I'll get to the point. Do I honestly need to make you a crown of flowers, or can I skip that nonsense?"

Nathaniel was very rarely speechless in such situations. He almost always had a few sharp, witty quips to throw someone off, to make them falter, to reflect the attention away from himself. But this time, he was drawing a blank. His lips remained parted in surprise, no words to fill the gap in the conversation.

Samuel leaned back on his palms, staring up at the plush white clouds in the sky. After a moment, he let one of his hands drift to Nathaniel's, his thumb caressing lightly at the softness of his white glove. Nathaniel parted his fingers, marveling at the way Samuel's slid so easily between them.

There was no need for words, then. Nathaniel set his sketchbook aside, heart hammering roughly against his ribs in a confusing expression of his nervousness, his excitement, his...attraction? Samuel surely lacked all the soft curves of the girls who usually planted themselves delicately in his lap. When Samuel sat there, it wasn't politely sideways, with a blush and a giggle. His legs wrapped around Nathaniel's torso and he gave a self-satisfied smile, tilting his head a little and setting his hands firmly, surely, on Nathaniel's shoulders, thumbs running over the jutting collarbones hidden by his crisp white shirt.

Nathaniel, who had never reciprocated all the touching and caressing of his female visitors, suddenly found himself wrapping his arms around Samuel's back, holding him in, feeling his musculature through his expensive black sweater. Those deep brown eyes stared into the hazel ones before them, and Nathaniel could feel the purposive tensing of muscles beneath his fingers as Samuel leaned in a little closer, letting his arms slide up around Nathaniel's neck, fingers tangling lightly in the hair there.

Nathaniel let a little gasp escape his lips, for the deep caress of his scalp was nothing like the tentative little pets of delicate female fingers, and Samuel felt the burst of air on his own lips. The pressure on the back of his head was slight but inviting, and Nathaniel found himself leaning in with bated breath. Samuel's lips twitched in a soft, relaxed smile as he closed the tiny gap between them.

The touch was so slight, so subdued, that it barely counted as a kiss. Samuel's lips were on his own, a tiny, tenuous graze of flesh on flesh that sent a shiver down Nathaniel's spine. He found his hands grasping slightly harder at the soft black sweater as he parted his lips and pressed closer, mind and breath both suddenly racing. Samuel responded in kind, and when their mouths came together once more, it was an undeniably real, firm kiss that seemed to linger an eternity.

"Nathaniel," came Samuel's soft, passionate whisper, and the breath of it was warm and harsh on his lips. Nathaniel found himself wanting to drink in every little sound the blond boy made as they kissed.

There was fire behind it all, a raw passion that Nathaniel had never felt with his typical visitors. And though he had denied them when _they_ tried, he let Samuel press him back into the lush grass of the clearing. Nathaniel was breathing hard by then, his body flushed with warmth, his heart threatening to burst with the speed and force of its blows as their bodies aligned perfectly together. He was so wrapped in the fervor of the moment, he didn't notice the way he was gripping and caressing down Samuel's firm sides, tugging him in closer, arching up gently to meet his hips as their legs tangled lightly together.

The bell's shrill clangor was so unexpected that they both startled as it reverberated through the tiny clearing. The owl he had been sketching earlier shifted from foot to foot as it opened its bleary eyes, hooting lowly in annoyance.

Samuel sat up, a wry smile on his face as Nathaniel rested back on his elbows. The blond had an aura of gold, silhouetted against the afternoon sun as Nathaniel looked up at him.

"We're late," Samuel said softly in his curious accent, reaching down to brush an unruly strand of Nathaniel's hair back into place before standing. He smoothed his sweater gently, picking a blade of grass from his sleeve before offering a hand to help the young Orington heir up from his place on the ground.

"For a very important date?" responded Nathaniel, but the last word tangled around him for a moment and caused a light blush to appear on his cheeks. He set his hand in Samuel's, gazing up at him for a moment and receiving a curious smile back as he rose from his place in the grass, their fingers weaving together effortlessly once more.

The walk along the narrow path toward the Academy was silent, but it wasn't uncomfortable. Nathaniel's lips still tingled from the firm pressure of Samuel's kisses and his mind was flying through it all again, trying to capture each detail like an insect in amber. For some reason, it felt like his first _real_ kiss, the only one that had ever meant anything.

The schoolyard was empty when they reached the path's end, and Nathaniel didn't stop Samuel when he paused and leaned up for another slow, soft peck. It was so easy to fold him into his arms and return that peck ten times over that only a sudden and tiny surprised gasp stopped them.

There stood Beatrice Branchwood, her blue eyes wide in shock, her blonde hair fluttering in the light breeze. Inside her rose an unprecedented amount of frustration, for in front of her stood Nathaniel Orington, the wealthiest young bachelor in the district. His genes and his fortune were among the most desired in all of Wonderland. He could bestow those gifts on one choice female through his marriage, and he wasn't about to opt out of it all while _she_ was on watch. After all, she had a chance to be the one lucky enough to win his favor. She had visited his little clearing enough times for that, she was certain. She felt her nose wrinkle in disgust, and she turned on her heel and marched indignantly away.

Samuel only shrugged, for girls were silly little frilly things to him. A coy smile played about his lips as he pecked Nathaniel once more, and he let his hand linger on the soft fabric of Nathaniel's white shirt before slipping inside the Academy's hidden side door.

**oooooooooo**

Professor Baird of Citizenship and Civic Responsibility gave Nathaniel a strange look as he slipped into the classroom a few minutes late, for he was normally the most punctual of students when it came to arriving after the lunch hour. The strain of tedium was painted on the faces of the other students; few even noticed that the professor had stopped lecturing for a moment to gaze at the latecomer. Nathaniel lowered his head apologetically and took his typical front-row seat. He reached into his bag, meaning to withdraw his leather-bound book of notes and pay strict attention to make up for his tardiness, but it was his sketchbook that met his fingers and fell open on his desk instead. The unfinished owl sketch called to him, and he alternated between filling in the texture of its wings and staring out the window.

Samuel was on his mind at once, though he wasn't quite sure what consequence those thoughts had. He couldn't help but recall the way the boy's golden hair shined in the sun, the way his hands felt grasping at his shoulders, and especially the way his lips fell so delicately against his own. Not a word of the lecture reached him, and he was drumming his fingers lightly against his lips, trying to puzzle the meaning out of the encounter, when a hand pressed a small slip of blue paper to his desk. Nathaniel started at the unexpected intrusion.

"You're to report to the headmaster," said Professor Baird's voice. His expression wavered between concern and frustration. "Immediately."

The cheetah _Serviteur _that had delivered the summons waited outside to show him the way, though he suspected the creature's presence was actually to ensure he didn't run off before the Headmaster could have his word with him. He was led into the sitting room just outside the office's ornate golden doors, which opened at once.

Beatrice Branchwood, in her tight-fitting blue dress, looked out at him with a coy smirk on her face. She turned, curtseying politely to Headmaster Beauman before scurrying off to the desk beside the door, shuffling papers around at once.

_Of course_, thought Nathaniel. He should have put the pieces together sooner, for it was foolish of him to pay no attention to Beatrice's earlier eavesdropping. She was shamelessly wound up in the Spade social scene, looking to marry as high as possible; that much was evident in the many days she had joined him in the grove. She was also the office's head assistant and, being in Beauman's pocket as she was, she used all the power she had to control the situation she found inherently repulsive. Nathaniel felt anger flare up inside him as he realized what the cute little wrinkling of her nose had meant. Beatrice had tattled, gone running to the headmaster to report the same illicit activities in which she herself had previously participated. When Samuel strolled in behind another _Serviteur_, Nathaniel wasn't at all shocked to see him.

"Mr. Orington, Mr. Abbot," said the Headmaster, gesturing into his office. "A word, please."

When the man turned around, Nathaniel rolled his eyes. _A word, please_ was something he hadn't heard often, but it was code for "Come quietly and no one needs to hear the outrageous amount of trouble you're in." He looked to Samuel, his lips still humming with electricity, and the blond just shrugged, gesturing forward.

"After you," he said, and his tone was nervous.

They stepped into the ornate office and the door swung shut behind them with a soft click. The room was silent, save the tiny chirps from a small yellow songbird caged in the corner. It tilted its head at them before losing interest and preening its glossy feathers.

"Have a seat," said the Headmaster in his deep, formal voice. There were two armchairs before the thick oak desk, and Samuel perched on the right-hand chair, one hand gripping the sturdy wooden arm, his muscles tense with nervousness as Nathaniel dropped into the left.

"It has come to my attention that you, Mr. Orington, have been vehemently participating in illicit sexual behaviors on secluded Academy property forbidden to student entry," said Headmaster Beauman, his strict eyes shining their disapproval. "It is not uncommon for students of your age and stature to participate in exploratory activities of that sort, but I assure you, Mr. Orington, that your lunch hour here at the Academy is neither the time nor the place. And you, Mr. Abbot," he said, turning his attention to Samuel, who had not yet known the powerful glances of the headmaster designed to drown a student in guilt for misbehaving at the Academy. "You are a new student here, and I had higher hopes for you. Do not follow in Mr. Orington's footsteps. The life of a shameless Lothario may be tempting, but I assure you it will lend you nothing but trouble."

_Shameless Lothario?_ thought Nathaniel, an incredulous, insulted gasp wrinkling his nose and showing his derision.

"I will be sending a letter to each of your fathers explaining todays occurrence and any _previous _infractions," said Headmaster Beauman with a pointed glance at Nathaniel. At the ring of a small bell, two of the Academy's prestigious cheetah _Serviteurs_ entered the office, and the headmaster placed a sealed envelope in both their hands. They departed with a low bow, parchment pressed into their waistcoat pockets.

Nathaniel felt his chest tighten in apprehension, his heart pounding against his ribs like a scared, caged bird. His eyes darted back to the little yellow songbird, which was calm and fast asleep. If his father learned of his behavior with Samuel in the grove, regardless of what those confusing heated kisses ended up meaning, he would be married off as quickly as possible to the highest ranking female to be found. The thought made him cringe. Tonight could be the eve of his wedding to the girl from the House of Clubs, and that would be that.

"I'm not finished with you, Mr. Orington," said Headmaster Beauman, and it was only then that Nathaniel realized he had shoved his chair back and stood.

"Well I'm finished," he said firmly, shoving the chair out of his way and turning on his heel. He slammed the ornate wooden door open, sending Beatrice Branchwood the most powerful glare he could muster as he rushed from the office area. The hall was teeming with students chattering in their obnoxious tones between classes. He burst into his Royal Etiquette classroom, making the fancy place settings clatter on the display table as he tossed himself into his desk. For the rest of the class period Nathaniel sat fuming, arms crossed over his chest while Professor Adamson demonstrated the correct and respectful manner of approaching a member of the Royal Guard. And though he wasn't done as the final bell shrilly rang the end of class, Nathaniel stood and rushed from the room. Elk was waiting at the gate for him as usual, and he stared out the window nervously as the carriage pulled away, trying to picture himself in a wedding tuxedo and frowning with displeasure.

**oooooooooo**

When Nathaniel entered the main doors of the pretentious manor after school, Gazelle was waiting in the welcome hall, straightening the flower arrangements. It was extremely out of the ordinary, and could only mean that his mother wanted to speak to him. As she never wanted to speak to him, it meant she had received the letter from the headmaster. An involuntary curse word issued from his lips as he tried to sneak by the waiting Housepet. She turned, though, looking at him with her large amber eyes.

"Your mother is waiting for you in the fourth floor drawing room," said Gazelle, bowing to him gracefully.

And she was. Her hair was loose, flowing over her shoulders. A young beaver Pet was brushing through it, carefully winding it in a fancy design on the back of her head.

"Nathaniel," she said warmly when he appeared. The beaver instantly clipped her long hair back and left the room.

It was rare for him to be alone with his mother. She was headstrong and successful, always busy with organizing the shops that sold their wares, meeting with entrepreneurs whose products they were considering, and paying crews of men to explore the Orient to find new and rare goods. He had heard the Pets talking of his birth once when they thought he wasn't listening, chattering about how she had handed him immediately to Dormouse and taken a long nap before continuing to work from her bed.

"Mother," he replied, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"I received an interesting letter from your headmaster this afternoon," she said, sitting elegantly in a high-backed armchair, feigning disinterest. A steaming pot of tea sat on a table next to her and she carefully poured them each a cup.

Nathaniel crossed the room to join her. He could already hear his father's harsh criticisms molded by his mother's gift with words. It was what typically occurred with his misbehaviors. He sat anyway, ignoring the tea she had poured for him and crossing his arms over his chest. This amused his mother greatly, as his stubbornness always did. She hadn't sounded interested, but he knew she was. Tea only reminded Nathaniel of the previous evening with Hare, crouched under the table in the barn as they ate illicit pastries.

"The typical tedium, I'm sure," he said of the letter with the same indifferent tone, adding a few cubes of sugar to the tea. A sip told him it was slightly bland. The tiny tea sandwiches didn't match its spice at all. Hare would have done better, and he found himself hoping the Pet had had a good first day in the kitchens.

"It stated that you have been participating in illicit activities of a sexual nature on Academy grounds during your lunch period."

She set her tea down and looked at him sternly over the top of her tiny spectacles. He just shrugged, resenting the way the letter had inflated what had happened. The kissing, after all, had never felt all that sexual, at least not until that afternoon.

"It also said this has occurred with an absolutely _astounding_ number of your classmates."

He looked up at her, then. If the letter hadn't mentioned Samuel by name, there was a chance he could escape the meeting without the scathing punishment of marriage. He set his tea down and stared back at her just as hard. The he chuckled, fell back in his chair, and kicked his legs over the arm of it.

"So?" he asked casually, holding his tea spoon up to admire his reflection in its silver gloss. He found he looked a little devilish.

This seemed to irk her deeply and she pursed her lips hard for a moment, considering what to say.

"You've never shown interest, Nathaniel, so we didn't think to inform you that your actions have consequences. If any young woman you are with becomes with child, the customs and laws of Wonderland dictate that you must _marry_ her. Think of the _family_. If your marriage is not advantageous, it may cause the collapse of the company, and all our wealth will come crashing down around us."

Nathaniel crossed his arms over his chest, watching the steam rise from his teacup.

"Well, it worked out for you and Father, did it not?" he asked coldly. His glare was petulant. He didn't like feeling like a punished child, especially when his mother didn't truly understand what was going on.

"That was unintentional, Nathaniel," she said sternly. He could tell he was pressing her buttons.

"On whose part?" he asked. When it came to conversing with his mother, things never went well. When things were going poorly, his favorite card to play was the unintentional pregnancy card. Rumor had it his brother's conception had not been planned; it was the kind of accident that caused a marriage and led to the merging of the two largest import-export companies on the globe. But no one would say—or could say—whether it had been his mother's intention to become pregnant and gain access to the Orington fortune or his father's intention to cause the merge.

"On both our parts!" she was angry for sure by then, for she had never responded to his taunts before. "But the way _you're_ acting is beneficial to no one. Women are not just toys for your pleasure, Nathaniel. They are to be respected. I never suspected I'd have to have this conversation with you. Your brother, without a doubt, but never you."

"Did you ever think to ask me if the headmaster's claims were true?" he asked, falling back into his chair once more. Though he had never spent much time with his mother and didn't feel that she cared for him, this assessment of his character bothered him.

"Don't lie to me about it," she said, and her voice descended to calm gentleness as he sipped at her tea once more. "Your father is pleased that you are showing an interest in your female peers. He would like you to choose your date for the gala this evening in honor of the queen. Perhaps there is one you favor over the others?"

"So you call my behaviors misogynistic, but then let Father validate them with a reward?" he scoffed.

"Choose, or he'll choose for you," she said plainly.

It was then that an idea came to him, and he could barely contain the smirk that was fighting its way onto his face.

"Tell him to send a letter of invitation to Beatrice Branchwood."

**oooooooooo**

The kitchen was a wreck.

Hare sat quietly at the prep table furthest from everyone else, concentrating hard at trimming edges of chocolate off chilled, dipped marshmallows. Behind him, pans of different chocolate concoctions were piled far taller than he, for it had taken quite some time for him to get the right flavor, the right sweetness, and the right consistency for melting and pouring and hardening. But now it was right, sweet but bold, the flavor heightened by the addition of a bit of orange zest left over from the day's dinner preparations.

Each marshmallow was delicately placed among the others, spread with a small amount of marshmallow paste to keep the figure together. And it just so happened that as soon as the perfectly-shaped pyramid was finished, its recipient walked through the door.

"Nathaniel!" cried Hare, waving his arms to catch his master's attention. Though his day had been difficult and strange, Nathaniel couldn't help but smile at the hare's enthusiasm. "I've finished the pyramid!"

"It's spectacular," beamed Nathaniel as he arrived, lifting it in the air. For a moment, he forgot the day's troubles in favor of inspecting the magnificent figure. More than a hundred marshmallows must have been included in Hare's finished masterpiece.

"Owl said you like afternoon snacks with your tea," said Hare with a smile, holding up a much smaller pyramid and a teapot. "I was hoping you'd give this a taste."

"How would you like it if we saved the large one to present at the gala this evening? We can share the smaller one now."

Hare flushed with modesty, shaking his head.

"Surely it can't be good enough for a…"

But Nathaniel had already plucked the marshmallow off the top of the smaller elegant structure and popped it into his mouth. The thick, rich chocolate accosted his tongue and he sighed in delight, smiling at the added zest of the orange.

"This is brilliant, Hare," he said around the firm, springy marshmallow.

They ate in peace together over the prep counter, the orange spring tea perfectly complimenting the chocolate. Unlike the bland tea prepared for his mother, which he had sipped at but subsequently ignored, this tea burst with flavor and he gladly drank every drop. When they had demolished the first small tower of marshmallows, Nathaniel listened to Hare chatter happily about his day as he dried the pans of chocolate Hare was washing. Though they weren't Clubs, there was still plenty of house gossip to be heard. Flamingo and Sparrow had chattered all morning about the lead guard Stag and his fondness for young, timid female Pets, even though everyone knew he was mated to Gazelle. Then Owl, finding their talk distracting, split them up to work on separate projects. Flamingo found a conversation partner in Gecko, the stew cook. They took turns sharing tidbits they had overheard in the dormitories—Salamander's infatuation with Pug, the missing night crew leader presumed to have run off, and Turtle's demotion from laundry to scrubbing for folding the sheets wrong. There was plenty to hear, and Hare happily regurgitated it to an astounded Nathaniel as they washed. Nathaniel had never realized that the manor's Pets had such a wild and varied social life, and he listened with rapt attention.

"What did you learn at school today?" asked Hare as he piled the pans back into the cabinet.

Nathaniel only shook his head, waving Hare upstairs with him. What had he learned? That kissing a fellow male aroused him more instantaneously than kissing a hundred of his female peers?

"I'm not sure yet," he said as they climbed, shrugging. The day's events weighed heavy in his mind, and he shook his head as if to clear them. "For now, we have to prepare for the gala. Let's just hope the queen doesn't show up…"


	4. A Night in the Life of a Spade

**Chapter Four: A Night in the Life of a Spade**

The Orington manor was brightly lit, its front doors thrown open to welcome the slightly chill air of the spring evening. While the ballroom was sizeable enough to hold an event of any number and occasion, it was finally temperate enough after a long winter to hold the festivities in the wide expanse of the Orington grounds, which were lit for the occasion. The Pets had spent the better part of the afternoon assembling slats of polished oak into a sizable ballroom floor on the largest field of the grounds. A large tented covering of sheer, red silk swayed gently over the floor and thousands of tiny twinkling lights adorned the surrounding bushes, casting a jovial, rosy glow upon the tray-laden _Serviteurs_ waiting expectantly for the first guests.

Nathaniel stood upstairs, looking down at it all as Hare carefully chose and laid out his evening finery.

"How do you feel about green?" asked Hare as he held two ties in his hand, assessing both against the light green shirt he had chosen from Nathaniel's collection. The emerald tie matched stunningly. "It would look lovely with your eyes."

Nathaniel turned to look at the outfit, nodding his approval as he slipped his school shirt off and donned the one chosen by Hare. The rabbit carefully slipped the strip of silky emerald fabric around his master's neck and tied it for him in a fancy knot he had learned from Gazelle earlier that evening. When that was done, he helped Nathaniel on with his coat and buttoned it for him, smoothing it down his torso.

"There is going to be a girl at this party tonight, Hare, that I am having as my date."

Taking the hint from Nathaniel's tone, Hare wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"I am taking her to a private part of the grounds and having dinner with her. Then we are expected to come up here, to this bed, and…" Nathaniel trailed off, stepping out on his balcony once more and observing the bustling set-up activity. The first guests would soon be arriving.

"You find that distasteful," stated Hare, his fingers worrying at the hem of his own fancy jacket.

"Yes," agreed Nathaniel, leaning against the railing and sighing. "I've kissed her, you know. I've kissed her and I've felt nothing."

"Then, why didn't you invite someone you like to kiss?" asked Hare naively, trying to help Nathaniel reason through his options.

Nathaniel only scoffed, for the only person in the whole world he knew he _liked_ to kiss was Samuel. Samuel, a fellow student best known for climbing into bed with the Duchess of Diamonds.

"I would be disowned," he sighed, shaking his head and flopping back on his luxuriously soft bed. "And anyhow, she only wants my genes and the power of my name, and my money. That's why they all want to be near me and kiss me."

"Well that's too bad for them, then. They're missing out on getting to know you. Now get up," urged Hare, tugging his master's hand lightly. "You're ruining your jacket."

Nathaniel sat up, slouching moodily and perching on the edge of the bed as Hare smoothed the slight creases in his jacket, his arms crossed over his chest. He was stewing in his frustration at the whole matter, suddenly cursing himself for inviting Beatrice at all.

A sharp knock roused him from his sullen state and, at his gesture, Hare dutifully crossed the room to open the door.

There stood a god of a man, tall and lean, dressed in fineries. His hazel eyes were shining with merriment, the resemblance to Nathaniel striking. Nathaniel stood instantly, his face brightening as he dashed across the room.

"Hey there, 'Thaniel," said the stranger, reaching out to ruffle Nathaniel's soft brown curls as he pulled him in for a quick hug. "I heard you got your first Pet. Is this him, then?"

Hare peered up at the newcomer and bowed low in acknowledgement.

"Stand," the man said in a gentle tone, smiling good-naturedly. "There's no need for that."

Nathaniel smiled and waved his arm from the golden-haired stranger to his Pet as if he were pointing them out to one another.

"William, this is my _Serviteur_ Hare. Hare, this is my brother William."

"Pleased to meet you," said William, holding out his gloved hand for a shake. Hare reached for him timidly and gripped his hand.

"And you as well," Hare replied, awestruck.

"We can chat later," William said with a smile as he turned his attention back to his brother, smacking Nathaniel on the back kindly. "Father said you have a date!"

The subtle look of annoyance on his Nathaniel's face said it all.

"Not a fan of the lass?" William asked, tilting his head curiously. "Father said you chose her yourself. I thought perhaps you were thinking of choosing a bride. Not ready to tie the knot?"

Nathaniel paused for a moment, shaking his head as he pondered his sour future wedded to some rich girl who would demand diamonds and textiles and children at all hours of the day.

"How is _your_ marriage going?" he asked, hoping that his nervousness at the topic was not terribly evident. His brother had chosen his own marriage instead of having one appointed to him, as Nathaniel's would be if he didn't act soon. William had always had a healthy and sometimes copious amount of interest in females, and had been both praised and chastised for it. Then Elizabeth came along. It was the first time Nathaniel had seen his brother passionate about something. He had spent weeks brainstorming ways to charm her, all flowers and music and poetry and jokes and laughter. When he did win her heart, they were inseparable. Mr. Orington had approved the marriage because Elizabeth's family background was old, rich and respectable. The union had brought in a new fleet of ships for the Oringtons and new exploration financiers for Elizabeth's father.

Nathaniel could still see that old passion in his brother's eyes as he smiled, even though they had been wedded for three years.

"Look," he said, reaching into his coat pocket and withdrawing a crisp piece of thick paper. He handed it delicately to Nathaniel as if it were very, very precious. "Spade Hospital has gotten some new technology."

On the paper was a photo, a white silhouette against a black background. It was difficult to make out at first, but the confusing shapes soon resolved themselves into a big head and tiny limbs with even tinier fingers.

"A baby," whispered Nathaniel, a small surge of surprise striking him.

"It's a girl," smiled William, touching the photo gently. "She'll be here in five months. You know, I already adored Elizabeth. Our marriage was lovely, but now it's deeper. I love her even more. I'd do anything for her and that baby."

A small sense of dread rushed through Nathaniel as he handed the photo back.

"But…what about…men?" he asked before he could stop himself.

"Men?" asked William as he filed the picture safely in the pocket of his jacket. He sat down on the arm of the couch, folding his hands together. "Tell me what's going on, Nathaniel."

"I've kissed girls," Nathaniel said sternly.

"And?"

"And…nothing. I don't…feel like you do. I've never had that caring—or even lust—for any of the girls at my school. And I've kissed almost all of them."

"Father told me about your exploits," said William. "Maybe that means that you haven't found the right girl yet. It takes a special match to make a successful marriage."

"But you enjoyed it, didn't you? I mean, before Elizabeth. I remember hearing Mother scolding you for being too adventurous."

"I enjoyed other women very much," he said, standing. "When I was young and naïve, I got my pleasure from them."

"What do I do?" asked Nathaniel as his brother tossed an arm around him. William thought for a moment, nodding slowly as he thought through what he was going to say.

"Just…be yourself. Perhaps women aren't your cup of tea. If that's the case, I promise I'll keep this conversation just between us. Now run along. I don't want you to be late for your date."

**oooooooooo**

Beatrice was waiting near a flowing curtain of red silk. Her hair was shifting lightly in the breeze, draping over one shoulder. Her black dress was tight and short, framing her curves and making a point of showing off her long, firm legs. Beside her stood a young and frightened-looking rabbit _Serviteur _with soft brown fur. Nathaniel felt Hare tense at his side as they approached the pair, for it was evident that the young Pet was beaten often.

"Nathaniel," said Beatrice gently as the Orington son and his Pet approached. Her tone was playful with an edge of seduction. "I was very pleased to receive your invitation this evening."

At that moment a partygoer bumped lightly into Rabbit, who stumbled forward a half step. As if it were second nature (and perhaps it was), Beatrice yanked her hand back, producing a small whipping rod. Equally fast, Nathaniel yanked the rod from her hand and tossed it aside. Putting on his best sweet face to hide the anger that had jolted through him, he smiled and took Beatrice's hand in his own.

"We don't do that here," he said, guiding her hand to his lips. He pressed his body close to hers in order to ensure her full attention. "I am very grateful that you could be here tonight on such short notice. Would you like to travel to a more...secluded area of the grounds? I've arranged a private meal for us."

Nathaniel could see his father watching from the head table, nodding in approval at his son's proximity to Beatrice's body.

"Hare," said Nathaniel firmly, backing away slightly but still holding Beatrice's hand. "I'd like you to take Rabbit to the table of refreshments and show her your marshmallow tower. Feel free to eat as much as you'd like."

And with that, Nathaniel led Beatrice through the complex walkways of the garden toward a secluded cove where steamed lobster would be waiting.

**oooooooooo**

As soon as they could sneak away, Hare and Rabbit darted off the dimly-lit path and under a tree whose low sweeping branches made the perfect hiding place. They embraced firmly, both shaking and crying as they held one another. Rabbit's nose pressed firmly into Hare's neck and he could hear her little sobs as they clung together.

"I didn't think I'd ever see you again," she whimpered, her fingers digging into her brother's fur.

"I'll get you out of there," swore Hare, cradling her gently in his arms. His heart was pounding in pain against his ribs, thumping rabbit fast as he rocked her back and forth. Remembering back to his hazy first week of life, he could recall his big sister licking him clean and protecting him from harm. As the runt he had been the last, the tiniest, and the weakest. But she had made him strong, had encouraged him to keep trying with her gentle nudges and her pretty eyes.

"It's awful," she whined, trying to dry her tears on the soft fabric of his shirt. It was no use; they just kept coming. "She beats me for everything. I've heard of cruel masters, but I never thought I would have one so intent on using that rod every second of every day. Please tell me your master is better..."

"Oh, he is," Hare reassured her adamantly, hugging her in tighter. "He's never once hit me. He doesn't believe in it. I found out I liked cooking and tea and he made sure I was in the kitchens while he was away at school, so I could learn better. He's kind and gentle. He's not my master. He's...my friend."

This brought on another series of sobs from Rabbit, but Hare cradled her protectively close and kissed her cheek.

"He's also very rich, and I know that he will offer to buy you from Beatrice if I tell him all this. I can do it. I promise. You'll be safe here."

And with one last hug he scurried off to find Nathaniel, to tell him the tale and to beg for his help.

**oooooooooo**

The grove was perfectly set with romantic fare. The overhanging trees were draped with the same tiny white lights that lined the paths near the party, making it seem as if they were beneath a small sky dotted with stars. A delicate table stood in the very center draped with the same red silk used for the large tent several hundred yards away. Four large canine Pets stood at the side, holding large plates with domed metal covers. They bowed when Nathaniel and Beatrice entered, much to his annoyance.

He proceeded to pull out a chair for Beatrice, pushing it gently back in when she was seated before taking his own. Gazing across the table at her, he could tell the setting and the privacy enchanted her. The first Pet approached them and poured expensive champagne into the flutes sitting at their places. Nathaniel raised his, considering the bubbles for a moment before taking a sip. Beatrice had raised her glass as well, awaiting a toast, and was deeply confused when he offered nothing before drinking. She drank as well, taking a polite little sip in case she had somehow missed it. Nathaniel drained his glass and sat back in his chair, motioning for the Pet to fill it once more.

A second Pet set a bowl of steaming red soup in front of each of them. Its scent was exhilarating, fresh and strong. Nathaniel picked up his spoon and tasted it, smiling as the bold flavors and sharp spices accosted his tongue.

Beatrice was beginning to feel offended at his behavior, for though he gazed at her, he had said nothing conversational. There was an explanation for this, she knew, but she was nervous to bring it up during such a lovely, romantic evening. She could feel her eyebrows pinching together slightly in annoyance, so she took a deep breath and tried to retain a collected countenance.

"Nathaniel," she said sweetly, "I sense that you are still upset with me in regards to what happened this afternoon."

"Yes, that is why I invited you here," he said. "I wanted to make something clear to you, but I feel there is time for that after we have eaten. We would not want this beautiful meal to go to waste."

Nathaniel drained his second glass of champagne and could feel the bubbles in his nose. Being alone with Beatrice was more uncomfortable than he remembered or could imagine.

"You invited me here because you are upset with me?" she asked, pressing the matter. It made no sense to her. When she was upset with someone, she wanted very little to do with them.

Nathaniel raised his bowl to his mouth and took a long drink of the delicious soup. Beatrice, perturbed, sipped delicately at her own.

"It occurs to me that maybe you don't have to think very hard about who you are," said Nathaniel, choosing his words carefully as he dabbed his mouth with his napkin, trying to sound mature. "It occurs to me that maybe you are exactly who everyone says you should be: vain and self-centered, focused only on how other people can move you forward in this world."

"We exist in this world to build agreements with one another," said Beatrice. "How we relate to others defines how we exist. It is in the social contract of our society."

"I've heard that message too, but I'm grappling with it," said Nathaniel, "because it doesn't make sense. I've heard that I'm supposed to relate to others in specific ways. I'm to marry a woman from a wealthy family in an arrangement that will benefit my family's business. I'm supposed to lie with her and thereby produce male heirs to my fortune. But what this means is that every woman I meet wants me for my money and wants nothing to do with who I really am. For example, do you know anything about me, other than how many pounds I'd put in your bank account?"

Beatrice flushed red at this accusation and could feel wild emotions—pain, anger, betrayal, embarrassment—filling her veins with heat. Of course she knew nothing about Nathaniel, other than the fact that he was strange and had no friends.

"Samuel knows nothing about you either!" she spat, standing up. Her chair wobbled unsteadily for a moment but did not fall over. "You should know your place in this world, Nathaniel Orington, for you've been dealt a powerful hand of cards and you're in this game for good. You can't forfeit by refusing to marry and instead spend your life doing indecent things with _men_! You are a filthy, disgusting excuse of a Spade."

Her blood was boiling by that point. How dare someone, regardless of stature, invite her over to a lavish party only to insult her to her very face? Nathaniel looked bored with her little outburst, but stood and faced her.

"I was trying to have an adult conversation," he said calmly, "to show you why we are not meant for one another."

Her fury would not let her hear his words. She launched herself at him, grabbing him tight and kissing hard at his lips. They fell together and she pushed him down in the lush grass, assaulting him with her mouth. His alcohol-addled brain took a moment to respond, but when it did he easily flipped her over in the grass and pinned her down, holding her wrists above her head.

"That is quite enough of that," he growled, flinging her wrists down and standing, brushing the grass off his knees. "You, my dear, are a sad, disappointing excuse of a woman."

It was just then that Hare appeared on the path to the cove. Nathaniel was glad to see him, to have another witness to Beatrice's bizarre and ridiculous behavior.

"Master Orington," said Hare with reverence, aware that Beatrice was on the ground watching him with fury in her eyes, "may I have a word with you…in private?"

The two left the clearing whispering with one another, leaving Beatrice alone with the _Serviteur_ crew. One of them leaned down and offered her a hand to get up, but she only looked at him with scorn in her eyes as she got up on her own, brushing the dirt and grass off her tiny dress. Shaking, she returned to the table and sipped at her night-chilled soup.

"Would you care for lobster, Madam?" asked Doberman, stepping from the shadows with the largest tray of all. He lifted its dome cover and the scent of deliciously-steamed lobster wafted out into the night.

Beatrice took a look at it and began to tear up. It was then that Nathaniel returned with Hare walking quietly at his side.

"Ms. Branchwood," said Nathaniel in his professional business tone. "I am offering you 5,000 pounds in return for your personal _Serviteur_ Rabbit."

"Fine," she said as she drained her own glass of champagne. "She's worthless anyhow."

Hare flinched, but Nathaniel set a comforting hand on his back as he tossed a satchel of coins to the despicable girl sitting at the table.

"Feel free to stay and enjoy the festivities," he said coolly as he turned to walk away, circling an arm around Hare. When they were far enough away, he whispered, "Take Rabbit to the infirmary and have them check her wounds. Let her know she will be safe here."

**oooooooooo**

The party was in full swing when Nathaniel returned to the dancefloor. Though the party was in honor of the queen, she had not yet made an appearance, to Nathaniel's great relief. Spade House's richest and most attractive members were swaying in calculated dances with one another. The steps made his head spin. Step-step-twirl-step. Switch partners. Step-step-twirl-step. It was dizzying to watch.

One pair of dancers caught his eye. A beautiful woman, young and smiling, was twirling in a light blue dress that matched her eyes. It was not short and tight, desperate as Beatrice's dress had been. It had class, enhancing the beautiful features of her form. Her long blonde hair was twirled into a design on the back of her head. With her step-step-twirled a man of strong stature, his hair nearly the same hue but his eyes a deep, shining brown. He smiled as well, moving gracefully through the crowd and always smiling brighter when he returned to his original partner. This was Samuel and, Nathaniel presumed, the Duchess of Diamonds with whom he had gone upstairs the night before.

The dance ended, partners bowed to one another and then to the band that had played the beautiful, fast melody to which they had moved. As if feeling eyes on him, Samuel's head turned and he met Nathaniel's probing gaze. He gave a sly smile and offered his arm to his partner, leading her off the dance floor to where Nathaniel stood sipping another glass of champagne.

"Nathaniel," smiled Samuel. "I must commend you for this beautiful party in honor of our Queen."

"I had very little to do with it," said Nathaniel humbly, reaching his hand out to Samuel's dance partner. She set her hand gently in his own and smiled softly as Nathaniel placed a delicate kiss there.

"This is the Duchess of Diamonds," said Samuel gently, smiling. "Madeline, this is Nathaniel Orington, one of the evening's hosts."

"I'm very pleased to meet you," said the Duchess, giving a small, polite curtsey. "This party is quite dazzling, and your grounds are beautifully manicured."

"Feel free to take a walk through them," said Nathaniel. "They are most beautiful by moonlight, I daresay."

"I may take you up on that," she said kindly.

"Do you mind if Nathaniel and I have a word?" asked Samuel gently, caressing Madeline's bare shoulder with his fingertips. She smiled up at him, accepting a soft kiss on the cheek.

"Take as long as you need," she assured him. "I will wait at our table."

"Feel free to dance, if asked."

Samuel kissed the Duchess sweetly on the cheek once more, and they smiled at one another as he departed with Nathaniel.

"Are you sure she doesn't mind?" Nathaniel asked. Though that afternoon seemed like a hazy memory, he still felt awkward talking to the boy who had been on top of him, kissing him senseless in the clearing less than twelve hours before.

"She and I discussed it earlier. I'm here, actually, to talk to you. Though, I'd prefer somewhere more private," said Samuel, following along after Nathaniel as he weaved between partygoers.

"Of course," agreed Nathaniel.

The tension was there in the air, standing thick between them. Nathaniel was becoming increasingly aware of his proximity to Samuel, the way they kept sending furtive glances to one another, and the scent of Samuel's New Selland cologne. Two _Serviteurs_ of the Orington Guard were stationed at the entrance to the house, spears crossing the entryway. They bowed softly to Nathaniel as he approached and drew back their spears so he could pass.

"This way," said Nathaniel, gesturing to the grand spiraling staircase. It always amused him to see people enter his home for the first time. Living in it, he didn't realize how excessive and showy it was, with the crystal chandeliers and the gold leaf doors. But there was always a look newcomers got in their eyes when they peered in at the Orington wealth: a look of surprise and astonishment with a hint of jealousy.

"My marriage has been arranged," said Samuel as they exited the staircase onto Nathaniel's floor. He said it matter-of-factly, but there was pain and annoyance hiding in his voice.

"To the Duchess?" Nathaniel asked, opening the large door to his anteroom. To his surprise, his bedroom doors were also set open. A fire was crackling gently in the fireplace, the couches draped with luxurious blankets. Flowers stood in shining new shoulder-high vases and a chilled bottle of champagne sat invitingly on the table with two empty glasses. This had been an arrangement made by his father, he was certain, so that if he had taken Beatrice up to his chambers that evening she would have been charmed by the warm, romantic splendor set there.

"Yes, to the Duchess," said Samuel, gazing around. "But the story is an interesting one, if you'd care to hear it."

"I would," said Nathaniel as he crossed the threshold into his bedroom, holding his arm out in invitation to Samuel. Another half-shy glance passed between them as Samuel stepped in.

"That letter home got me in a lot of trouble," he explained as he sat delicately on one of the blanket-laden couches. Nathaniel shut the doors, ensuring them a private place to talk. "My father received it, read that I had been caught in a compromising situation with another male student—though it didn't name you—and rained his own special sort of hell down on me. He told me I had disgraced him and our name, had disappointed him, had done exactly the opposite of what I was in Wonderland to do, which was to find a wife. He said my behavior was contrary to that of last night, when I took the Duchess of Diamonds upstairs with me. His reprimands had an odd sort of hilarity to them, though, because nothing even _happened_ while we were upstairs. She and I had a lovely conversation, disclosed some secrets that had been weighing on us, and agreed to perpetuate the rumor with our silence on the matter."

"What sort of secrets?" Nathaniel asked, frowning softly as he handed a glass of bubbling champagne to Samuel. The blonde took it, sipping softly.

"Promise me you'll keep this in confidence," he said firmly. "My future, as well as the Duchess', depends on it."

"Of course," Nathaniel assured him, sitting on the opposite couch. He was troubled by the tone in Samuel's voice.

"Neither of us are looking to be married," Samuel paused for a long sip from the flute of champagne. "Neither of us are interested in the opposite sex. Madeline prefers to lay in bed with pretty, frilly girls and kiss their soft mouths, and then their soft skin. I prefer to lie with men, to feel their hard angles and their strong hands. She and I went upstairs with one another that night to perpetuate a myth about ourselves, the myth everyone wants to hear and believe about us; the myth upon which our society is based. She and I talked and laughed and became good friends, and now our fathers have arranged our marriage, and we will serve to hide each other's secrets. My father has bought us a manor in the House of Diamonds, where we will live. I will keep a man there, as a husband, when I find the right one. She will keep a wife. We will lie with one another only to conceive children. It is a perfect arrangement and we are blessed to have it, but it still leaves a bitter taste in my mouth."

Nathaniel sat silently, deeply surprised by everything Samuel had said. The blonde stood, circling around the table and sitting next to Nathaniel, his knee pressed gently to the Orington son's thigh.

"I had to come to your party tonight to say goodbye before I left for the House of Diamonds," he said, his tone soft as he leaned in a little closer. "I feel we could have been something, save for this mishap."

Nathaniel turned his head, blinking his long-lashed hazel eyes lightly for a moment before capturing Samuel's lips with his own in a slow, tender kiss. When they broke apart, Samuel rested his forehead against Nathaniel's.

"Could have been what?" mumbled Nathaniel, closing his eyes for a moment.

"Friends," Samuel replied. Then, after a second of thought, "lovers."

"I've never had one," Nathaniel admitted.

A smile touched Samuel's lips.

"That's a shame," he murmured, grazing his lips along the line of Nathaniel's jaw. They kissed once more, Samuel slipping his fingers into the soft brown locks to draw Nathaniel closer to him.

It was Nathaniel's turn to smile then as Samuel slipped into his lap, pressing their bodies closer together.

"Yes. Yes it is," he whispered, his lips reclaiming Samuel's. The tongue of the New Selland boy darted out gently and Nathaniel met it, shivering with want as he wrapped his arms tight around his firm torso. Nathaniel had never, in his whole life, been so aroused. He could feel his blood boiling with want, even though his naivety left him wondering what it meant to be lovers with someone like Samuel. The kisses, which had started out tame and gentle, were blossoming into touches consumed with passion and desire.

They would have continued, too, had it not been for the sharp knock at the door.

"Samuel," hissed a familiar voice as the door cracked open. It was the Duchess of Diamonds, Samuel's betrothed. "Your father is demanding your presence. He has readied the carriage."

A frustrated growl issued from Samuel's throat as he rested his forehead on Nathaniel's collarbone.

"I'm sorry," he murmured into the crisp green shirt, cupping Nathaniel's face in his hand for a moment and looking up into his eyes. "I wish things could have been different."

And just like that, he was gone. He was following the Duchess down the stairs and leaving the House of Spades, starting his sham of a life with his sham of a marriage. Nathaniel dropped his head into his hands, feeling the alcohol give a sickening swirl in his stomach. Too much had happened that day for him to be sure of anything, but his inebriated mind kept following his brother's words earlier that evening.

"_Perhaps girls aren't your cup of tea_..."

"Cup of tea," mumbled Nathaniel. "That would be lovely."

Almost the moment he thought it, Hare was at his side with a calming chamomile tea ready, stirring in a dollop of honey and touching the warm cup to his lips. Nathaniel heard himself cackle for a moment, but then took a sip. His eyes were made heavy nearly instantly, his head falling down slightly as Hare gently supported it. The creature gazed into those hazel eyes, giving him comforting little pats as they looked at one another.

"Lie down," whispered Hare, gently smoothing a blanket over his master. "You should sleep. The morning will bring you comfort."

The last thing Nathaniel noticed before drifting off was the concerned look in Hare's bright magenta eyes.


	5. Summer Tedium

**Chapter Five: Summer Tedium**

Nathaniel heard the news through the intricate web of gossip at school: Samuel had been married. It brought to mind that night, several months ago, when he and Samuel had kissed at the party. It brought to mind the conversation they had had about he and the Duchess using one another as disguises for their true identities. It also brought to mind the fact that his own marriage, so oft-discussed in the Orington house, had not been spoken of for quite some time. In fact, the difficulties of those days had seemed to slip away unnoticed. He had woken the next morning for school with a brutal headache and a bad temper, but thought very little about the previous evening. Beatrice would still scowl at him occasionally in the halls, but that was all right by him. He no longer had to tolerate her impossible personality.

Through a little unpleasant research, Nathaniel confirmed that Rabbit was indeed a sibling of Hare's. Nathaniel was glad Hare had asked for his help in rescuing her, for her injuries were more severe than she had let on. Left alone with Beatrice, she likely would have suffered permanent disfigurement and perhaps even death at the forceful blows dealt out for the slightest infractions. The two were inseparable during the day, Rabbit following her brother around in the kitchens and making herself helpful to him in his daily tasks. The Pets began to make good-natured jokes that Hare had his own assistant.

Nathaniel and Hare had grown closer to one another and had fallen into routines that cemented the predictability of their friendship. Each night before bed they sat down in front of the fireplace and told stories about their days while sipping a deliciously prepared, calming tea. Hare was growing in his culinary abilities by leaps and bounds, and always prepared a small evening snack whose flavors augmented those of the tea. He called this synergy, for each of the flavors together were stronger than they were apart. Nathaniel shared stories of school and taught Hare to read, even though it was strictly forbidden without the queen's express permission. The ability came quickly to him and Nathaniel came to respect his intelligence deeply. Once Hare could read, he began to write his recipes with great detail on tiny cards that Nathaniel stashed in a box in his room. Hare also became a voracious devourer of books, and Nathaniel ensured that he read on many topics from many genres: Wonderland and folklore, fantasy and realism, satire and legality. His favorite, of course, was cooking. He'd often stay in Nathaniel's room by the fireplace long after the Orington son went to bed, reading by the light of the fire and then by the light of the diminishing cinders, until it was far too dark to make words out of the marks of the page.

Life had gone simply by as Nathaniel focused on school. Courses had gotten more rigorous. More and more students had stayed on the lower tracks as he advanced. It left him with only two or three classmates in each period as he reached courses like Advanced International Economic Practices III and Legality: Rights and Limits. Those classmates were all graduating in the spring, though he had a year yet to go. He was yearning for the day he would be alone with a professor and could hold real debates unencumbered by his peers. After a week of staying up until the wee hours of the morning on his typewriter, Nathaniel had handed in his final projects and said goodbye to the school year.

Summer, glorious summer, was upon them. The days had grown hot and the nights muggy, so the Orington son slept with few clothes and his balcony doors wide open. Sometimes fireflies would enter his room, flitting about his head as he dozed off. It was all so lovely, his existence.

He awoke on his first free Saturday morning, a bar of sunlight warming his toes under his blankets. Hare sat dutifully on one of the couches reading in the morning light, his eyes scanning through one of Nathaniel's textbooks on legal policy.

"Morning, Hare," said Nathaniel as he rubbed his eyes.

Hare held up a finger, indicating that he needed a moment to finish his paragraph. To all other masters this infraction would win him a choice punishment, but Nathaniel didn't mind. He lay back in bed, stretching his long limbs and trying to catch pieces of the dream he had been wrapped in before waking. Nathaniel could hear Hare moving about, withdrawing from a paper envelope a cloth-wrapped packet of tea and herbs he had made earlier that day. Hare set it delicately in a porcelain cup and unscrewed the lid of a canister of steaming water. He poured it over the tea bag, watching as the color and flavor seeped outward. When the steeping was finished, he withdrew the small bag and stirred in honey and a tiny bit of cream. The smell of strong black tea and dried apricots—with a hint of ginger—wafted across the room and made Nathaniel's mouth water.

"Good morning, Nathaniel," said Hare gently, offering the cup to his master as he shifted into a sitting position. "Care for some tea?"

"That would be lovely," he replied, taking the cup and sipping appreciatively. The liquid warmed his stomach and his soul.

They sat like that in comfortable silence. Nathaniel offered a sip of his tea to Hare, who politely declined for having already had some himself.

"Do you know what today is?" asked Nathaniel as he stood, setting the empty cup on his bedside table. Hare picked it up and wiped at the wood to protect it from moisture.

"Saturday?" asked Hare as he tucked the cup away in his kitchen bag and handed Nathaniel articles of clothing. Today he had chosen a crisp white dress shirt and an emerald tie with long gray slacks. Nathaniel nodded appreciatively as he donned the garments. It was strange, really, as he typically stayed predominantly nude throughout the hot days if he could.

"You don't know?" asked Nathaniel as he straightened his tie in the mirror. A mischievous grin made his lips twitch upward. "It shall be a surprise. We're going somewhere."

"Somewhere?" asked Hare as he hopped along behind his master.

"Yes," said Nathaniel, giving no other hints. "Somewhere."

It was already half past eleven when they arrived on the first floor of the Orington manor. Elk had the coach waiting for them. He had a bored look on his face, and Hare supposed he had been parked there for quite a while.

"Good morning," said Nathaniel, tugging his gloves on a little more firmly and standing up straight and tall. "Are we ready to depart, Elk?"

"Yes, sir," he said with a small nod. He opened the door to the ornate carriage and bowed low as Nathaniel and his _Serviteur _entered. They were off just moments later.

The city passed along outside the windows, wide boulevards descending to narrow cobblestone streets and soon to packed dirt paths through the increasingly encroaching forest. Nathaniel began to fidget, his eyes bright with excitement as his foot tapped incessantly. Hare began to worry that they were traveling back to the horrible place in which he was born, but instead of breeding pens and tiny holding houses, the clearing they came upon displayed a bright array of tents and large structures made of wood and metal.

"What...what is this?" asked Hare as they exited the carriage, his eyes shining with wonder. The Wonderland citizens milling about wore brightly-colored patches denoting their house; with them, they carried other objects—plush animals and neon candies and tasty treats. They laughed and yelled to one another across the busy thoroughfares between tents. Nathaniel was smiling brightly, tugging on Hare's arm gently.

"This is the Summer Festival," chimed Nathaniel, his gleaming white teeth displayed more fully than Hare had ever seen. "There are delicious snacks and delightful games and thrilling rides!"

"Rides?" asked Hare, pointing to the biggest metallic structure, which had been fitted with thousands of tiny, flickering lights.

"That," explained Nathaniel, "is the Ferrous wheel, because it is made of iron. It takes you from the bottom all the way to the top in a big circle. See?" Several wonderland citizens boarded an empty capsule at the bottom and laughed in delight as they swung upward.

"It's big," mumbled Hare nervously, awestruck at the size. He couldn't help but think that people surely died if they fell from it.

"It's _wonderful_," corrected Nathaniel, tugging Hare up to the mustached man taking the green paper admission tickets. The Orington son's pockets were full of them, and he happily doled out two to buy their passage; then, seeing two young children staring at the structure in awe, he waved them over and placed several tickets in their hands. He winked at them, gave them a joyous smile, and proceeded to step into the capsule paused at the bottom. Hare followed along behind, clutching nervously at his master's arm.

The compartment rocked back and forth as the creaking metal beast lifted them slowly upward. Nathaniel sprawled out over the bench, admiring the view as the clouds came closer and the forest diminished below. Hare dared to stand, to look over the side, and he let out a terrified squeak when he did.

"Come here, Hare," said Nathaniel gently, patting the spot on the bench next to him. They had gone a fourth of a rotation and stopped, leaving them nearly fifty meters in the air already. "Sit with me."

So Hare sat, leaning against his master, clinging tightly to his shirt in fright. Nathaniel smiled, for Hare's nervousness was impossibly adorable, and he held the shaking rabbit in close to him.

"It's safe; I promise," he assured his friend as they began to ascend once more. "No one has ever been hurt."

The top was nearing. Nathaniel stood, gently easing Hare to his feet and walking to the edge. The rabbit clung tight to the railing around the inside of the capsule, his lips parted in an O of surprise. The clearing looked tiny clustered around the base of the giant wheel. It seemed to Hare that he could see everything in the world from there, for he could certainly see the mountains to the south and the high towers of the queen's heart-shaped castle to the North. The manor of each House was visible on a tall hill in each district. He found the House of Diamonds first, then looked west to find the House of Spades. There was the Orington Manor, even.

"Our house!" exclaimed Hare, smiling and pointing. He had nearly forgotten his fear of heights; that is, until the wheel started to move with a low shudder, causing their capsule to rock slightly. Nathaniel wrapped a sturdy arm around his Pet and smiled as they began their descent.

The two burst from the capsule when it reached the bottom, laughing jovially as Nathaniel held the wobbling Hare up. He didn't see them, but several classmates from the Academy sneered as they saw the friendship between master and Pet. It was deeply frowned upon—disgusting to some, uncomfortable to others, and downright unforgivable to several of the boys standing in line. But Nathaniel didn't care what others thought; he only cared about what was right. In his mind, there was nothing more right than being dear friends with Hare.

"Now, let me introduce you to cotton candy," said the Orington son, steering Hare toward a booth where an old man was spinning the fluffy cotton onto sticks. "You will not believe your tongue."

**oooooooooo**

Evening fell quickly after that, even though summer days stretched long. Nathaniel had spent the day introducing Hare to the decadent flavors of festival delicacies and to the stomach-swirling excitement of rides that spun them and shook them and flung them into the air. They tried everything once, and several things twice. The Ferrous Wheel was still Hare's favorite, and Nathaniel's outlandish will to please others meant that he took all the gold coins in his pockets and bought all the capsules on the wheel for an entire hour. The two of them watched from the top of the tall structure as the sun fell in the sky, dipping below the tall Wonderland buildings and drenching the sky in bright pinks and purples that slowly faded their way to the blue of night.

Nathaniel loosened his tie, leaning back on the bench and gazing into the sky as the stars started to peek out at them. Hare was shivering in the sudden chill of night, and Nathaniel gently wrapped an arm around him to keep him warm. Their eyes were growing heavy. All the delicious food and the excitement of the day had tired them, and they had very nearly fallen asleep atop that brilliant wheel when a sudden whiz and bang startled them awake again. At once, the sky was on fire with a rain of bright colors and stunning designs.

"Fireworks," whispered Nathaniel to a bewildered Hare.

"Sky pictures of fire," whispered Hare back.

A shower of silver stars, a bright red barrage of circles, flowers of pink and blue, purple-hued raindrops, and a finale culminated with a dazzling golden dragon brought the night sky to life. It nearly put the stars to shame. Hare was aghast with delight, as was Nathaniel with seeing the happiness painted on his features.

Just as soon as it had come, it was over. The silence was overpowering, the night sky so peaceful with nothing to light it but the moon and stars. The Ferrous Wheel dipped them down back to the earth, and they descended from their capsule with tired eyes, leaning on one another as they searched for Elk. He was there with the rest of the driving _Serviteurs_, waiting. The quiet darkness of the carriage was a welcome break from the excitement of the day. Both Nathaniel and his hare were dozing peacefully before the gilded carriage left the clearing.

**oooooooooo**

The dozing Spade boy was jolted awake as the carriage came to a halt outside Orington Manor. The March Hare was still fast asleep on the opposite bench, his feet twitching in unison. In Dreamland, he was chasing his siblings around a wide grassy meadow. They were falling over one another, tripping and shoving playfully, hopping about with glee. Nathaniel could tell he was dreaming and felt bad as he reached over to shake him gently awake, but Hare returned to reality with a soft sigh and a blinking of his beady eyes.

Elk opened the door, holding it steady as Pet and Master climbed laboriously down the stairs from the carriage, limbs stretching and joints popping in protest. Nathaniel stifled a deep yawn, stumbling forward. The cool night air greeted them kindly. It was a welcome break from the stuffy interior of the carriage, and they drank it in gladly.

"What a lovely day," sighed Nathaniel, slipping his tie from around his neck as they climbed the long set of steps to the manor's main doors. Hare trudged along after him sleepily.

But as they stepped inside, the sense of peaceful relaxation quickly dissipated. Not only was Gazelle waiting in the entryway; Dormouse was there too, her kind eyes deepened with sadness.

"Nathaniel," she said kindly, reaching for his white-gloved hands, "I have bad news. Your grandfather, your father's father, has passed away. Your grandmother is upstairs speaking to the family. Your presence is required in the fourth floor drawing room."

Nathaniel felt confused, numb with the sudden realization that such an amazing man had been taken from the world. His eyebrows hardened into a confused stare as he absorbed the impact of the news. Monsieur Orington's death had been expected for a long while. In fact, many joked that as soon as a wealthy, powerful gentleman received the noteworthy title of _Monsieur_, he would be dead within five years. However, none of that softened the blow of despair that hit the young Orington son. It reverberated in his chest like the loud gong at the Queen's castle.

He could scarcely remember being led up the stairs and down the hall to the drawing room, but he suddenly stood at the large double doors flanked by Gazelle, Dormouse, and Hare. He nodded sharply and Gazelle opened the door, allowing the entourage to step inside.

The room was quiet, the lamps turned down low to create a mournful, intimate atmosphere. His father was standing near the lamp, investigating a long roll of parchment with tiny spectacles perched on his nose. His mother sat on the plush couch in the middle of the room, precisely where she sat when she had scolded Nathaniel for his behavior with young women. Her face was composed, patient. Across the room stood William; next to him sat Elizabeth, red-faced and large with child.

His eyes landed upon his grandmother last. She was seated in a plush chair across from the couch, dressed in plain black garments, her figure stooped only slightly more than normal. Her face was a mask of calm, but her eyes showed the true emotion plaguing her—something akin to torment mixed with disbelief. Nathaniel went to her immediately and she stood to receive him. He wrapped the small, aging woman in his arms and held her lightly to his chest. It was apparent, from the way she clung to him, that she was deeply upset and had not received much comfort from her family. They sat together, hands still clasped firmly. He caressed her wrinkled skin with his glove-covered thumb as he turned his eyes to his father.

He didn't know what he expected from Monsieur Orington's firstborn son as his eyes scanned through the long document in his hand, but it certainly wasn't a face made of strong, well-composed stone. This, Nathaniel assumed, was the Last Will and Testament of Archibald Fillion Macalester Orington.

"The agreed-upon provisions are in order," he said curtly in his deep rumble, rolling up the parchment. "The estate, the company...both are solely in our name."

His wife clasped her hands over her heart in a prayer-like gesture, eyes rolled up to the heavens in thanks. Nathaniel felt sickened by this display. Did anyone even care about the suffering of the elderly Madame Orington? Sure, she would be well cared for monetarily, enough to spend her remaining years in the comfort of the beautiful cottage she and her husband had built together in the forest. But would she be cared for socially? Emotionally? Nathaniel squeezed her hand gently, showing his solidarity. She closed her eyes in pain for a moment before opening them again, gazing at him as if thanking him for his presence. The elderly woman gathered her strength, then stood.

"As is customary, I come to you humbly with such bad news bearing gifts. I have a letter written shortly before my husband's death," she said quietly. The room was dead silent. "It outlines the possessions that have been left to each of you."

This was a deep-seated Wonderland tradition. Shortly before death, if all went according to plan, the dying party left one of his or her possessions to those that would remain living. This encouraged them to remember the deceased positively, to call to mind happy memories instead of being trapped in the grayness of mourning. Madame Orington stood up as straight as her age allowed, braced herself on Nathaniel's strong shoulder, and signaled to her maidservant to bring in the carts waiting in the hallway.

Several old but able _Serviteurs_ entered pushing wheeled carts covered by sheets. Each stood in front of his cart, waiting to unveil the object hiding beneath.

"To Mr. William James Orington Sr., my firstborn son, I leave the antique globe of the world from my very first office. So much of your time as a boy was spent tracing your fingers over the surface, taking imaginative trips from country to country. May you look upon it now, remembering the wanderlust that captured your heart as a young boy and provided the spark for our many business ventures together."

Monsieur Orington's personal manservant slid the sheet from the glimmering globe, exposing the surface to the dim light of the drawing room. Nathaniel could see that each country had been formed by a special cut of a precious gem: Wonderland in deep red ruby, Fantasyland in sparkling bright emerald. Mr. Orington pressed his lips firmly together into a flat, hard line. Perhaps he could fool others with his expression, but the lines in his forehead showed the stress of his loss, and for once Nathaniel saw a flood of emotion in his father's eyes.

"To Mrs. Gabrielle Dominique Orington, I leave a set of jade hair combs and jewelry, the very first fine stones to return from the exploratory expedition to Indoninja. I remember your father and I building a deep and meaningful friendship on this journey. I have always been proud of the woman my son chose to marry, whose presence strengthened and molded him into the leader he was meant to be. Your father would have been just as proud as I am."

Mrs. Orington's eyes sparkled as the jade was unveiled. Very rare and expensive, it would add a layer of wealth and prestige to her already stunning collection. It also called her own father to mind. This was precious, because he had passed when she was only just starting her married life. In many ways, he had not known her at all, not as she was now; Mr. Orington had become her father after that, always caring for her as he would for his own daughter.

"To my eldest grandson, Mr. William James Orington, Jr. and his expecting wife, I leave the antique mahogany bassinet that has been in our family for generations. It has cradled many a great Orington in her infancy. It will suit the beautiful girl I know your daughter will be. My only regret is that I did not get to lay my eyes on her before my passing."

William made the same expression that his father did, tight-lipped with eyes fighting to rid themselves of feeling. He held Elizabeth close to him, his hands caressing her stomach and, thereby, his growing daughter. His wife set a soft kiss on his cheek and placed her hands over his supportively.

And then it was Nathaniel's turn. He closed his eyes and bowed his head, trying to hold his emotions in check.

"To my youngest grandson, Nathaniel Jouille-Robert Orington: It is clear that we shared a special bond. It seems like only yesterday you were toddling about the manor making a name for yourself as the resident nuisance. The years had mellowed me when you were born. I felt free to play with you, to explore the world through your eyes, through your mind. You are a free spirit. Never let go of your optimism, of your love for the world and all its creatures. May you be a successful lawyer and, above all else, may you be happy. To you, Nathaniel, I leave..." Madame Orington paused for a moment, her own eyes widening in surprise, for she had neither read the list nor prepared the items and therefore had no idea the depth of her husband's gift to Nathaniel. "To you, I leave my hat."

A stony silence filled the room, as if no one were breathing or blinking or thinking at all. Nathaniel could feel all eyes on him, human and Pet alike, as Monsieur Orington's aging manservant placed an exquisite mahogany hatbox in his arms. He dared not breathe or blink or think himself, let alone open the brass latches and peek inside, for tears were already flowing down his cheeks, and he felt embarrassed.

It was his grandmother's turn to hug him in tightly, to cradle him through the tears much as she had when he was young.

"It's very late," said Mr. Orington suddenly, standing and folding the will into his coat pocket. "Doberman, place the globe in the center of my study."

And with a swish of coat tails, he was gone. Mrs. Orington tenderly folded the jade into its velvet wrappings and decorative Indoninjan box and carried it off, following her husband's example.

William showed more appreciation, coming forward to clasp his grandmother's hands and thank her properly.

"Our daughter will look so peaceful sleeping in the bassinet," he whispered, bringing the wrinkled hands upward for a kiss. "I will think of you both every time we lay her down to sleep."

"You're a good boy," said Madame Orington softly, patting his cheek. "You've made both of us very proud."

He bowed gently to her, then took Elizabeth's hand and led her out of the room, toward rest.

This left them alone in the large fourth floor drawing room, just he and his grandmother and their two _Serviteurs_. Hare stepped forward and laid a hand carefully on Nathaniel's shoulder.

"Would you care for some tea?" he asked gently. The concern he felt was deeply evident in his expressive magenta eyes.

Nathaniel wiped his tears with the back of his gloved hand and straightened up, gazing at his grandmother as she sank into one of the big chairs in the corner with a dejected sigh.

"Grandmother," he said softly. She looked up at him with hazel eyes swimming with tears. "I'll have Hare bring us some tea. Do you have a preference for flavor?"

She cleared her throat, slowly sliding a hand across her eyes.

"Chamomile," she managed, her voice still shaking with sadness.

"And candies," requested Nathaniel. "Whatever sort matches the flavor properly. You're the expert."

Hare bowed low with his ears brushing the floor, not because he was told to but because it felt right to do so. And then he was off, rushing to the kitchen to prepare a soothing beverage for his ailing master.

Nathaniel sank into the adjacent chair, delicately setting the hatbox beside him.

"I know that in Wonderland, death is not a time to be sad," he said carefully. "But...if you want to mourn tonight, I will certainly be here to do it with you."

His grandmother looked up with a sad, appreciative smile before the tears began to flow again. Nathaniel clasped her hands in his own and let his emotions flow freely as well. The crying lasted several minutes, but both were comforted by the presence of the other, and tears slowly transformed into smiles and laughter. By the time Hare arrived with the tea, the two were telling teary, heartfelt stories of their favorite memories of the late grandfather. They sipped lightly at the hearty, flavorful tea—Madame Orington even said it was the best chamomile brew she had ever had—and nibbled at the delicious honey lemon candies stacked mountain-tall on a silver serving tray beside them.

"You've always been a peculiar boy," said Madame Orington at the end of one of Nathaniel's many stories about his boyhood adventures with his grandfather. He would have been offended, but the statement was carried by such a kind, caring tone that it felt much more like a compliment than a criticism.

"How so?" he enquired, laughing gently.

"I see the Orington ambition in you, Nathaniel. You know what you want and you have no fear of doing what it takes to get it. But, you have such little regard for our social world. You see deep into the heart of Wonderland. You see what makes it tick. You see what prevents it from ticking, too, and you see how to fix it. You care not for the way things are done, only for how they should be done if the world were perfect. For example, you've stayed here with me all night instead of leaving when you saw that I was suffering from a spell of unhappiness. And your Pet there—Hare. You treat him not as a servant that you bought and paid for, but as an equal, as a friend. You've made it painfully clear that you have no interest in taking a wife and starting a family. You disregard the system that created our wealth and high standing. But you _live_, Nathaniel. All this lets you live in the moment and experience the world openly, as it is, with your heart instead of with a cold, closed mind. Everyone else is closed off from so much that you have decided to let in. I see so much potential in you, so much future success. I am so proud to call you my grandson, to call you an Orington," she said, her voice radiating her pride as she stood. "Remember that, no matter what anyone says."

Her old, wrinkled hands caressed his hair softly for a moment. Nathaniel closed his eyes, still processing what she had said to him. After a moment, her hands dropped back to her sides and she crossed the room. She paused, though, just before slipping out the door.

"And remember," she added, gazing back at her grandson as he lifted the hatbox once more. "You are more deserving of that hat than anyone else."

**oooooooooo**

Hare jolted sharply awake, the little bell flicking here and there, back and forth above his head. The tinkling was loud, obnoxious, and he instantly reached up and took hold of it, quiet spreading across the room. Doberman looked over at him and let out a soft growl.

"Took you long enough," he muttered, his lip curling in disgust as he rolled over in his bed.

Hare didn't have time to care about the disdain of the large black dog, however. He was worried. Nathaniel never rang him, especially at an hour when they were both commonly asleep. The sun had not yet risen, and Hare guessed that it was a very early hour of the morning, if it was morning at all. He took the stairs by twos as he dashed to the large fourth-floor bedroom that Nathaniel inhabited.

"Come in," said Nathaniel, even before Hare had time to knock. He slipped into the room instantly. The two wall sconces dimly lit the area closest to the bed. The light revealed a troubled-looking Nathaniel sitting up against his extravagant headboard, the sheer curtains around his bed drawn and casting him in shadows.

Hare didn't hesitate. He firmly closed the door behind him and scurried over to the bed, nearly tripping, and he pulled back the curtain slightly to peek inside.

"Nathaniel, are you alright?" he murmured, sticking his concerned rabbit face inside. The teen shifted slightly away and then patted the wide space next to him in the large bed. Hare clamored in and sat next to his master, patiently awaiting an answer.

"I don't know," said Nathaniel, lifting the mahogany box sitting next to him. He stroked its smooth, perfect surface and sighed. "We're not supposed to show our sadness at death, but I miss my grandfather. He was one of the only members of my family that I could stand being around."

Hare leaned back into the plush pillows and gazed over at Nathaniel, thinking of how best to help him.

"Tell me about him," he said finally. "I didn't get the chance to meet him. Tell me what made him so special to you."

This brought a sad smile to Nathaniel's lips, but he laid back and obliged.

"My first memory of him, I couldn't have been more than three or four. I was in the care of Dormouse and some other pets. They had made me some natural paints from berries and spices in the kitchen, and I was rubbing my sticky hands all over a huge white canvas. I was supposed to be with them all day. I just remember turning, looking up from the paints to see him silhouetted in the doorway. It was such a surprise! I ran to him, got him all sticky with berry paint, and he didn't even care. He just spun me around and ruffled my hair, and we spent the day running around the gardens, exploring. That's the kind of man he was. He was at the Manor for a business meeting, but he completely disregarded it to spend the day with me."

Nathaniel was smiling, his fingers working at the latches on the shined mahogany box.

"This was his hat," he said, gently lifting the box's lid to reveal a perfectly kept top hat, price tag tucked under the band of fabric around it. "It was iconic; he was known for it. He used to let me wear it when I was running around the Manor as a small child. He would chase me; I'd hide, he'd find me. We would play this game where I would sit on his lap and he would try to read the paper, only the hat got in his way. He would lean one way; I would lean and try to block his view again. It was always so silly, and no reading ever got done. I just remember him as a pillar of love and support. He was so different from my cold, insensitive father."

Hare leaned against his master's arm, peeking into the box. The hat rested there, pristine as the day it was made. Nathaniel eased his gloves off, reaching in and touching the brim with his bare fingers.

"I was a rather wild young boy," he said, tenderly lifting the hat from the box. He inspected it delicately, feeling its familiar weight. "He used to call me his mad little hatter."

But suddenly, all that happiness fell from Nathaniel's face. His shoulders slumped, and he set the hat back in its box as delicately as he had lifted it out.

"I don't know if I can live up to what he thought of me, Hare."

The rabbit _Serviteur_ paused for a moment, then set his paw in Nathaniel's bare palm. The human's fingers twitched, and his eyes fluttered closed. He had spent so many years with his hands covered by soft cotton gloves that he hadn't anticipated how sensitive his skin would be to touch. A human hand would have sent a shiver up his spine, but Hare's soft fur? He trembled with the sensation of the tiny hairs drifting feather-light over his palm.

"I see it in you. You are a free spirit. You do what is right regardless of whether it's socially standard or not. From my reading, that is the definition of strong character. You can't help but be successful, Nathaniel. You're...you. You just need to embrace it. Be your grandfather's mad hatter. Be the person who made him proud."

Nathaniel stared straight ahead, a burning intensity in his eyes as he lifted the hat from its resting place once more and set it atop his head.


	6. Epiphany

**Chapter Six: Epiphany**

The weather was chilling for the year and the grounds of Spade Preparatory Academy were suddenly littered with several feet of snow. Unfortunately for Nathaniel, this meant the post-lunch break was now held in the school's Common Area, a large hall packed with comfortable armchairs, small tables, and roaring hot fireplaces.

The Orington son didn't much appreciate being sequestered with his peers. They were loud, often raucous, and peered over at him while they talked. Nathaniel's fingers were itching to draw, but he did not much care for sketching while others were around. Half the reason they insisted on gossiping about him was because of his closeness with Hare, but for some reason that soft white rabbit was all his hands ever wanted to draw anymore. If they saw his art, he knew it would all be over. He would be mocked openly and relentlessly instead of occasionally behind hand-shrouded mouths.

But what did he care, really? He considered this as he withdrew his sketchbook from his bag. He was one of the richest and most powerful people in Wonderland. Did it matter to anyone what the Academy thought of him? Not in the slightest.

Seated in a plush armchair at the very end of the long Common Area, Nathaniel flipped to a pristine white page and touched his pen to the paper. Then, his hands took over. They were filling in swatches of black ink faster than he could think through what he was drawing, outlining not just one figure, but two. The details in their clothing, their expressions, their poses were filled in before Nathaniel could stop himself. When the piece was finished, his pen clattered to the stone floor, drawing looks from several surrounding students as he gazed upon the artwork that had flowed from his fingers without his consent. An embarrassed flush came to his face and he slammed the book shut, hoping against hope that no one had seen the drawing. The rush of panic that sparked through him made the Orington son realize that his peers _did_ matter. If they had seen, he would have been absolutely done for.

Luckily, no one seemed to have paid him enough attention to notice. They were busy sipping tea and driveling on about their lives in their affected, obnoxious accents.

With shaking fingers, Nathaniel cracked open his sketchbook and peered inside. His heart was pounding against his ribs as his eyes flickered over the delicate strokes of ink on paper. There, in his book, drawn in extravagant detail by his very own hand, were he and Hare. But this was not just any portrait of manservant and master; this was a travesty. Hare's Orington Manor work shirt was halfway unbuttoned, revealing a strip of silky white fur down the middle of his chest. Nathaniel's hat was pulled low, hiding his eyes as he leaned in toward Hare. They were in each other's arms, Hare clinging tightly to Nathaniel's crisp dress shirt, Nathaniel's fingers cupping the back of Hare's head and pulling him inward. It was the moment just before a heated kiss.

The Orington son closed the book and held it on his lap as he gazed into the fire, brain whirling and fingers trembling. He had always been odd. He had always disregarded the apparently arbitrary social rules of Wonderland. But _this_? This crossed into a deep and shameful perversion. This artwork alone could land him years in prison. Acting on it could land him a death sentence.

But…it was Hare. Deep inside him, it felt like his brain was finally catching on to what his heart had known for months. Everything suddenly made sense. He had rescued Hare from a fate worse than death; in a way, Hare had saved him too. Their comfortable daily routine had cemented their friendship. As they spent so much time together every day, they had gotten to know each other deeply and intimately. In fact, each had begun to feel more comfortable with the other than alone. They lived together, played together, explored and learned together. All along, their friendship had been deepening and deepening. And now, very suddenly and forcefully, Nathaniel realized that he was in love with Hare.

He sat for a moment, eyes stony and staring straight ahead. This was surely a life-changing revelation, and his psyche was fluttering around it delicately like a ruby-throated hummingbird searching for a flower's sweet nectar. He wanted to drink it in, to be filled with love's delicious sustenance. But wouldn't that be dangerous for both he and Hare?

Only the bell could rouse him from his thoughts with its sharp clangor. Nathaniel stood, feeling his weight settle heavily onto his feet as he trudged toward his next class.

**oooooooooo**

Nathaniel kept the book on his lap for the rest of the day, as if he could feel with his fingertips the electric current of emotion it had caused within him. The rest of the day took an eternity to pass. Minutes felt like hours, for he was distracted by thoughts of Hare. How was he supposed to share this revelation with him? What if Hare's love for him went no farther than the typical devotion between manservant and master? What if he didn't feel the same deep yearning in his heart that Nathaniel was currently feeling?

This question plagued him for the rest of the day, setting a sick knot in his stomach.

And then, as he was walking to his coach down the front steps after school, the unthinkable happened. Two rowdy first years were squabbling just ahead of him on the stairs. Nathaniel rolled his eyes as he walked past, in no mood to hear the bickering going on between them. He just wanted to get home, see Hare, and determine whether or not his anxiety had any foundation. But just as he passed, one of the obnoxious children swung his arm out in some grand gesture to the other, and his knuckles collided squarely with the sketchbook tucked protectively under Nathaniel's arm. The thwack was so sudden and unexpected that the leather bound volume went flying, cartwheeling down the steps before landing at the bottom, its pages fluttering in the chill winter breeze.

Nathaniel felt in that instant that he must have done something evil in a past life, for surely the world was correcting his previous wrongdoings by dealing him the worst luck it possibly could have dealt. First, the wind's sudden halt stilled the pages of the sketchbook, which settled on the drawing Nathaniel had done that day in the Common Area. Second, a student reached to retrieve the book from the ground. However, this was no helpful student—this was Cooper White, the biggest and most bigoted seventh year in school. Nathaniel stood, eyes locked on the monstrous boy as he gazed at the artwork. His face contorted in what could only be a disastrous mix of disgust and rage. Then, suddenly, his head snapped up and caught Nathaniel in a solid, stone cold stare. Something in Nathaniel's head told him to run; and so he did, feet flying fast back up the steps, down the crowded hall, and into the wintery courtyard. There was only one place he could think to hide, and he dashed down the forbidden path to the secret clearing where he had kissed Samuel months ago.

Heart thumping brutally hard in his chest, Nathaniel thought for a moment that he had evaded the mountain of a bully. Unfortunately, Cooper White had followed the footprints left in the snow. He burst through the foliage just seconds later.

They stared at one another for a moment. Nathaniel could see the rage in the boy's bright blue eyes, could see the steamy clouds of angry breath, could see the derisive sneer on his face. Without a word, Cooper tossed the book into the snow, stepped forward, and delivered a thunderous, lightning-fast punch to Nathaniel's face.

**oooooooooo**

Hare was frosting his newest creation—a chocolate-strawberry cupcake with a generous filling of cold chocolate mousse—when he heard the Orington Manor's large front door click open, creak slightly, and fall shut just as it did every afternoon at three twenty-three exactly. Nathaniel was home!

He made the frosting a thick, smooth swirl atop the decadent cupcake and placed the treat on a little plate of gold. Quickly, he scurried to the door of the kitchen, nearly tripping in his excitement as he waited for Nathaniel to burst through and toss his books aside. But that day, Nathaniel didn't appear as he always did when he counted to ten. Or twenty. Or thirty. By the time he got to sixty, he was rendered incredibly worried by the fervent whispers of Housepets in the hallway.

A slim golden mouse poked her head through the kitchen door, carrying a sad, concerned look in her eyes.

"Hare, dear," she said in a soft squeak. "The young Master Orington has stormed up to his room. We've never seen him so angry! It's frightening. I do hope he's all right…"

The white rabbit barely let the young mouse finish before he tossed the plate on the counter, not caring one ounce about what happened to the cupcake. He ran up the spiral stairs to his best friend's chambers, darting inside the small anteroom and knocking insistently on the door.

"Nathaniel?" he asked gently, extending both his ears along the cool wood of the door. "Nathaniel, can I come in? Are you all right?"

"Go away!" Nathaniel shouted, his voice obviously hot with tears and anger.

Hare was lost for a moment in indecision. He tried the handle, but the door was locked. Knowing that Nathaniel never locked his door caused even more fear in Hare's fast-thumping rabbit heart. He frowned deeply, withdrawing a small ring of keys he possessed for emergencies. This was certainly an emergency, wasn't it? He pressed the key into the lock and turned the handle.

Nathaniel sat on one of the plush couches, head buried in his hands. He looked up as the door swung open, revealing a badly bruised left eye, a bleeding lip, and a nose that looked swollen and tender. Nathaniel's hazel eyes appeared mossy green with the wetness of his tears. His hands were clenched in fists, his face openly displaying his rage and hurt and sadness and…was that a hint of fear and shame?

Hare shut the door firmly behind him, looking on in horror for a moment before hopping softly over, perching on the table near the couch, and holding both Nathaniel's hands. The battered boy choked back sobs, clinging to Hare's soft white paws.

"What happened?" breathed Hare almost silently.

"I _hate_ school," exclaimed Nathaniel, breaking Hare's grip and standing swiftly, pacing up and down the aisle of carpet between the couch and the coffee table, clearly agitated. "Each student runs around thinking he's some sort of vengeful god, some entitled warrior whose job is to enforce all the social customs of our time. They're pathetic!"

He was shouting, his tightly clenched fingers digging into the fabric of the expensive sofa as he paused behind it. Hare looked on for a moment in worry, then rose and crossed to the table in the corner of the room, soaking a thick, soft towel in a porcelain bowl of warm water. He rang it out carefully as Nathaniel continued.

"'Look, I've got this, I've got that. This that and the other thing!'" said Nathaniel, mocking their haughty accents and stifling more sobs as hot tears scorched a trail down his cheeks. "In their eyes, anyone who is different is absolute shite. Sod it, Hare! They find _one_ little piece of paper and suddenly I'm enemy number one!"

"Please sit, Nathaniel…" he urged gently, taking hold of his master's bony wrist and guiding the boy to the couch. Something in Hare's tone, some fear or deep concern, made Nathaniel sit and take a deep breath. He wiped angrily at his tears, trying to breathe through the pain of his wounds.

Hare felt helpless, but he sat next to Nathaniel and cupped his injured jaw gently in his paw, shaking with nervousness as he touched the cool cloth to the swollen, bruised eye. The Orington boy complied willingly, allowing the rabbit to tend to him, to clean his wounds. After all, Hare was the only one who could ever calm him down from that level of rage and pain.

"What paper did they find? Why did they do this to you?" Hare asked, dabbing lightly at the still-bleeding lip. He found his voice shaky and he swallowed, hoping to steady it.

Nathaniel winced, but leaned into the warmness of Hare's paws.

"I can't tell you," he whispered, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

"You can tell me anything," said Hare as he hesitantly wrapped an arm around the ailing boy. Nathaniel said nothing for a moment. He leaned in close, comforted by the soft white fur against his good cheek. He seemed to waiver for a moment, stuck between speaking and remaining silent.

"I…Well, I…They got a hold of my sketchbook," he finally managed.

"Is your art not up to their standards?" asked Hare, trying to lighten the mood a bit. This was the wrong choice, though, for Nathaniel slumped again and pulled away, putting his face back in his hands.

The book in question was lying just feet away, badly tattered on the floor. Hare crept up to it, lifting it in his arms and bringing it over.

"Can I look?" he asked softly, sitting next to Nathaniel and resting his head lightly on his bony shoulder.

Nathaniel huffed, standing suddenly and leaving Hare wobbling unsteadily on the couch.

"Why not?" he asked sarcastically. "You'll beat me too, when you see it."

"I will not!" said Hare sternly, flipping to the end of the book and riffling through the slightly damp pages until artwork began to appear.

Nathaniel winced, but didn't stop the _Serviteur_. Part of him, deep down, wanted Hare to see. At least then his disgusting secret would be out in the open. Hare would leave, and he would be alone in the world once again, and that would be that.

The book fell open to a series of small sketches Nathaniel had drawn just days ago. On the page, by Nathaniel's talented hand, was a collage of images: a laughing Hare, a blushing Hare, a cooking Hare, a comically angry Hare in cartoon style, and he and Nathaniel drinking tea. All of them were detailed and pretty, and Hare smiled at the time and effort his master had devoted to each one. He smiled as he cast his eyes across the page, running his fingers softly over the images, feeling deeply important in that special way that Nathaniel made him feel—valued, cared for, respected. He wanted to see more!

"Don't!" urged Nathaniel as Hare's fingers fumbled with the corner of the page. However, he turned it anyway. Glancing at the date, he realized with a shock that this one had been drawn that very day.

Nathaniel just looked down, biting his lip, his heart pounding so hard he could barely hear the birds chirping happily outside the window, loud as they were. Hare's eyes lingered for a moment and he didn't speak, his gaze following the strokes of ink on paper, which were all made with softness and care. The smile faded slowly from his face to an expression more like confusion and shock, his lips parted and his eyebrows both raising and coming together slightly. He turned his head toward Nathaniel, but his eyes stayed glued to the image for a few moments more before they darted nervously to those hazel orbs, still bright green from crying.

"N-Nathaniel…wh-what is this?" he stammered quietly, his trembling fingers absentmindedly stroking the page.

Nathaniel started pacing again, clearly nervous. He appeared almost as jittery as Hare.

"Cooper was outraged. He called me a bloody low life perverted sick son of a bitch," spat Nathaniel. "But he doesn't get it! You're not just a _Serviteur_. You're a friend and he…I…you…UGH."

Nathaniel was clearly tripping over his words, stuttering badly. Hare had never seen the typically loquacious boy so tongue-tied. He stopped suddenly, standing in front of the seated _Serviteur_. With a deep sigh, he collapsed next to his friend and leaned back, sinking slightly into the plush cushions.

Hare sat still as stone for a moment considering the irate, battered boy beside him. They were silent, each gazing into space as the air turned awkward. Hare was the first to recover from the overwhelming discomfort and tension between them. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and rested his head against Nathaniel's lean bicep. More than anything, he wanted to comfort his master, to calm his nerves, to reassure him. But how? A thought flashed across his mind, searing as a lightning strike, and set him to trembling. Could he do what he saw in the picture? Could he kiss Nathaniel? Everything in his heart told him it was right. And he couldn't deny that he'd thought of it too, increasingly often as of late, when he was alone late at night.

Nathaniel lowered his eyes, watching as the _Serviteur_ leaned against him and absentmindedly began smoothing one of the creases in his already blood-ruined button up. Hare could feel Nathaniel's gaze. He was so close to his best friend that when he looked up, he could count the Orington boy's long eyelashes one by one. His mind tried to do it for a moment until he realized that the gap between them was closing and he could feel Nathaniel's breath on the corner of his mouth. An involuntary whimper issued from his lips, whisper soft. Those downy cotton-gloved hands came to the back of his head, just as pictured, and drew him in. They were mere centimeters away now, noses bumping lightly together. And then, as Hare rested his hands on Nathaniel's chest, their lips met.

The kiss was soft, nervous and hesitant…and yet, it was stern; it was playful. Hare gripped at Nathaniel's shirt, tasting a hint of coppery blood from his split lip. One of Nathaniel's gloved hands covered Hare's on his chest, gripping it gently. And Hare didn't realize until right then how long he'd been waiting for that moment, and how much they had been _flirting_, in broad daylight, in front of the Orington parents and everything! He blushed then, his heart racing in his chest. After a few moments Nathaniel pulled back, a bit bashful, astounded by the depth of emotion surging through him. It was as if a tsunami had been towering high above him, roaring with the threat of crashing down upon him. Now it had finally clobbered him, drowning him in an incredulous euphoria that left his skin tingling and his head spinning.

"I…" Nathaniel swallowed, feeling a sudden need to apologize. But as he thought more about it, he decided the damage was done. If there was any time to tell Hare exactly how he felt, wasn't it now? He tried to talk himself out of it for a moment, but finally sighed in defeat and muttered, "I just try to get through the day, ignoring all the ridiculous nonsense of my school and my family just to come home to you; to spend time with you, to see your smile, the wiggle of your nose, the spring of your step. I can taste love in the treats and tea you make, and I…I find myself wishing you could show that love to me." Nathaniel smiled to himself, looking at the floor, abashed. His smile then dropped and his eyes rose to meet Hare's. "Do you ever…think you could? A rich asshole like me? A human man? Do you think you could ever love me?"

The rabbit paused for a moment, taking Nathaniel's hand in his paw and admiring the sight of the crisp white glove against his own white fur.

"Do you ever think I haven't?" Hare asked in an incredulous breath, bashful himself as he slid his paw up the soft human arm in a sort of awkward caress. He pushed Nathaniel's sleeve with it, baring his skin to the cool air, his soft fingers running over the pale flesh. "Until now, those cakes have been the only way I could ever show my love to you. You've shown me more kindness than a human has ever shown any Pet. It's because you don't look at me that way, like some lowly animal. You are the only person in the world who doesn't look down on me. You're not an asshole," he whispered, looking up with his deep pink eyes, his nerves overtaking him now. "I've thought of crawling into bed with you at night a thousand times, drifting to sleep as you hug me. I never thought you'd...f-feel the same. I...I..." but he bit his lip and looked down, shaking his head.

All the energy left Nathaniel. He had been holding in so much tension, so many frantic, fearsome thoughts, dreading Hare's reaction and the damage to their friendship. Now that all that was over, however, he grew weak, drained of all the liveliness his worry had given him. Nathaniel stayed quiet, lying back on the couch. He silently drew his Hare into his arms, lips tingling from the kiss they had shared. Honestly, it was nothing like kissing Samuel. He had thought those kisses powerful, but they didn't make his chest ache with the unique pain that could only be love. They didn't make his legs weak, his mind race; not like this. He gave the pet a squeeze and pressed a kiss to the top of his head, nestling his nose into the silky fur before remembering he was injured, then wincing in pain.

Hare blushed deeply, pressing himself close to Nathaniel's side and resting his head on his shoulder, closing his eyes as the afternoon light filtered in through the golden curtains. His paws softly stroked down Nathaniel's sides in a calming massage. He found it much easier to relax when Nathaniel was relaxing as well. He felt giddy and lovestruck all at once, lips still tingling from his first ever kiss. This was his master, his human. Most Pets felt chained to theirs for life and dreaded waking each day, and he was fortunate enough to feel the complete opposite.

"I want to do to that boy what he did to you. He's got no right…" grumbled Hare angrily.

"I'm not weak," Nathaniel muttered firmly, tensing a bit. The last thing he ever wanted was for Hare to think of him as fragile. "He was just big, and it was sudden. Don't you dare get near him."

Nathaniel scowled gently at the thought of Hare fighting to defend him. He looked down at the small rabbit and tugged him gently and protectively closer. Hare tremored at the feel of Nathaniel holding him so possessively, so firmly, and he pressed himself a little closer as well, hiding in the safety of the Orington son's arms.

"You're not weak, Nathaniel. You're…" He breathed, trying to come up with some word other than 'beautiful' or 'wonderful.' Hare shook his head, looking up into those scowling hazel eyes, touching his soft nose to Nathaniel's uninjured cheek as he mumbled. "If it had been a fair fight, I know who would have won. You're smarter, guaranteed. You're a quicker thinker and a better person. I don't think you're weak. Not one bit."

Nathaniel sighed in relaxation, then winced. Now that he was calmer, he felt the throb of pain in his eye and nose, previously masked by fear, then anger, then love. Each heartbeat sent a pulse of agony through his handsome features.

"Hare, I need to rest. Could you stay with me? If anyone comes in, pretend to be tending to me."

It was Hare's turn to move first this time, gently touching his lips to Nathaniel's. They paused there for a moment, holding each other comfortingly, lips touching and chests aching with emotion. When they parted, Hare tenderly helped his master to bed and slipped the thick, silky blankets around both of them. He nestled back into the boy's welcoming, tender arms, his heart and his body warmed with love.

"I care very deeply about you, Hare," Nathaniel whispered. "Nothing could change that."

"I care about you too, Nathaniel, more than anything," Hare whispered into the curve of his master's neck.

And almost at once, the Orington son was drifting to sleep.

**oooooooooo**

Nathaniel had hidden from his parents for hours, locking himself in his room and refusing to attend dinner. But of course his stomach was weaker than his will. Once the sky had darkened and the moon had risen high among the evening stars, he could no longer take the furious gnawing of hunger. Hare was deeply asleep, buried in the plush blankets of the large bed. Feeling too guilty to wake him, Nathaniel decided to sneak down to the kitchen alone to find something to quell the grumbling in his stomach.

It was on his way back that he rounded a corner and nearly collided face-first into his brother's broad chest. He suddenly remembered that Elizabeth had given birth several weeks ago and that she and William had come to the manor to introduce their new daughter.

"I see now why you weren't at dinner earlier," said William, reaching up to light one of the hallway wall sconces. He winced and leaned forward, concern in his eyes as he examined his brother's wounds. "What happened?"

Nathaniel sat, perching anxiously on one of the plush hallway benches.

"Connor White happened," he responded, readjusting his white gloves and looking down at his slipper-clad feet.

William snorted.

"When I was in school, he was just a small, unimpressive first year."

"So was I," said Nathaniel. "Times have changed."

"So why'd he do that to you, then?" asked William, mirroring his brother's way of sitting.

"It's nothing," Nathaniel said firmly, his tongue absentmindedly tracing the split in his lip. "No one at school likes me much."

Above all, he could not tell his brother about the altercation. He could not look to one of the only family members he respected and tell him the truth about what he was.

"Was it about Hare?" William sounded hesitant, as if he knew better than to be asking.

Nathaniel didn't even need to say anything; the look in his eyes was enough. He sat there silently, an expression of surprise clear as day on his face. Behind that, there was shame and panic.

"Because Nathaniel, you can tell me anything, you know. I'm not Father. I can think for myself…"

"I can't," he said sharply, standing. "You wouldn't understand. And you're not even here. How do you think you know anything?"

William saw the outburst for what it was: fear.

"I've been visiting Grandmother," explained William. "She's lonely at her cottage in the country. Elizabeth and I bring her meals and keep her company. She was there when Alexa was born; she helped Liza through it all. We were talking over tea one afternoon and she mentioned the closeness that you share with Hare." William relaxed into the bench, patting the seat next to him in invitation to his brother. "I remember the conversation you and I had the night of the party, and I'm capable of putting two and two together."

Nathaniel could feel the blush coming to his cheeks. He sat down and slumped for a moment, astonished by how obvious all this was to others when it had taken him so long to figure it out.

"I won't tell anyone, certainly not Father or the Heart Guard. Just…talk to me," urged William. "It'll help. You can trust me."

Finally, he shrugged and mumbled, "We kissed today."

And maybe it was how ashamed and defeated he sounded, but William wrapped an arm around his brother and gave him a reassuring squeeze.

"And…?"

Nathaniel sighed heavily, absentmindedly adjusting his gloves.

"And it was perfect. I've never felt more passionate about anything," and then, as an afterthought, "I hope you don't think poorly of me."

"I assure you, I don't. There are a few things I would like to discuss with you, though, and it's because I care about your wellbeing as well as Hare's. Society has a problem with this kind of love for a lot of reasons. Some of these reasons are born of fear and ignorance, while others are legitimate concerns about potential consequences. You know by now that _Serviteurs_ cannot give legal consent. That being said, humans _did_ genetically manufacture the first _Serviteurs_ to be sexually and emotionally compatible with our species. I don't think anyone takes that into account when discussing the relationships that inevitably grow between humans and Pets. Hare is a reasoning creature. He was designed with a human mind and therefore is capable of processing his surroundings and experiences as any of us would. That being said, I believe he can give _meaningful_ consent even if he cannot give legal consent, and that is why I do not have a problem with what is occurring between the two of you. However, you are in a unique situation in that you have ownership over Hare, and that raises some ethical dilemmas. I know you are good to him; I know you treat him kindly. But do you truly feel that he can be honest with you about his emotions, about whether or not he wants to develop a deeper relationship with you?"

"Absolutely. He has no reason not to be," said Nathaniel, suddenly appreciating that his brother was well-versed in legal and ethical debate. While the conversation made him nervous, it was well organized and easy to follow. "We're always honest with one another, even on the occasions when it is uncomfortable to be."

"Then a more challenging question must follow. Let's say you develop a relationship with Hare. It's passionate, it's communicative, it's very loving. Then one day, you have a fight, or one of you falls out of love, or something else unexpected happens, and you decide that you do not want to be in a relationship any longer. It would be deeply inhumane to keep Hare in your servitude if that were to happen. Are you prepared to risk the solid and dependable _Serviteur_ relationship you have with Hare in return for a potentially larger amount of happiness, knowing that if things end badly you will be morally obligated to free Hare?"

This question gave Nathaniel pause. It reminded him of a situation long ago, when he had been visiting his grandfather at the large Orington warehouse to the west. Running around outside, no older than seven, Nathaniel had come across a set of cement steps leading down to one of the basement levels. There weren't many steps—maybe three or four—but they were flanked on either side by brick ledges. Standing atop one of those pillars of brick and mortar, he could see down to the landing below. The temptation to jump across, from one ledge to the other, was overwhelmingly tempting. And so he did. He made it the first three times, back and forth, laughing at the newfound game. That was, until the fourth jump when he did not quite make it. Instead of landing happily, his thigh slammed into the ledge he was attempting to land on and scraped roughly all the way down the bricks as he fell. And now here he was, standing on a metaphorical ledge, contemplating his urge to leap. What if he made it? What if he didn't? Was the euphoric rush worth the risk of a gravel-filled wound and weeks of limping?

"I'm falling in love with him," he finally said, shrugging his shoulders. "Pretending that I'm not won't change anything. I have to take the risk."

They sat in silence for a moment, both lost in their own thoughts as they contemplated the old portraits hung throughout the corridor. Younger versions of themselves stared back at them from gilded frames.

"I'm proud of you," said William finally, standing. "I know Father gives you a difficult time, but you've become your own person. There is immense value in that. Remember that I'll always be just a letter away, if you ever need to talk."

Nathaniel nodded in thanks as he stood, grateful that his brother was as understanding and open-minded as he was. William clasped him in a tight hug for a moment before they parted ways.

When Nathaniel returned to his room, the sight of the dozing white rabbit immediately warmed his heart. Hare was buried in blankets, limbs twitching as he dreamed. The young Orington son sat on the edge of the bed, gazing down at the peacefully sleeping _Serviteur_ and occasionally tracing his fingers over the edge of a silky ear. That morning, he had not even realized that he wanted to kiss Hare. Now, the word _love_ was echoing through his mind, clear as day. He leaned down, grazing his lips over Hare's soft cheek. The rabbit stirred at the gentle touch. As Hare's magenta eyes blinked open, a smile of pure happiness came to his face.

"Nathaniel," he sighed sleepily, reaching up and locking his arms around the handsome human's neck. "You're back."

"I'm back, Hare," he replied gently, leaning down and touching his nose to the rabbit's. "Go back to sleep."

The half-sleeping hare nestled close, bumping his lips clumsily against the human's. Nathaniel winced, the split in his lip suddenly stabbing him with pain. However, the pain didn't matter to him. A radiant happiness was flowing through his veins. Hare was kissing him. Hare was looking up at him with sleepy magenta eyes. Hare was tucking the covers around them both, pressing them close as they held one another. Though the rabbit dozed off quickly, Nathaniel remained awake, thrilling at the otherworldly feeling of being in love for the very first time in his life.


End file.
